


I Fear No Evil

by Siamese_and_Cookies



Series: Psalm 23:4 [3]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Animal Abuse, Attempt at Humor, But It's the Seeds so it's, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, I mean really slow burn, Jacob's Idea of Romance is throwing you to the wolves, John is a clingy mess, Joseph can be soft, Romance, Rook is a confused mess, Slow Burn, Some Fluff, Some angst, The Companions are Done, The Judges are in it after all, no beta we die like men, slightly unhealthy relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siamese_and_Cookies/pseuds/Siamese_and_Cookies
Summary: Deputy Rook is stuck in Hope County without any outside help. Her team divided and all hope seemingly lost, more tragedy strikes when she learns the psychopaths who have trapped her in the County were once her friends.Torn between fighting against their cult and keeping the oath she swore to herself, new bonds are forged, old ones are reborn and Rook becomes just fed up with everything as she walks a tight rope between being the Saviour that Hope County needs and a Symbol that the Cult wants.All the while she unwillingly gives her heart to the three men who may just take the greatest pleasure in breaking it.Why hadn't she just called in sick that day?(Part 3 of 3)
Relationships: Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed, Female Deputy | Judge & All Companions, Female Deputy | Judge & Grace Armstrong, Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed, Nick Rye & Female Deputy | Judge, Sharky Boshaw & Female Deputy | Judge
Series: Psalm 23:4 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733287
Comments: 31
Kudos: 105





	1. Night of the Hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! 
> 
> If you're **new** , I'd recommend reading the previous two parts first for a (debatably) better reading experience.
> 
> If you've read the other two, welcome back! It's taken a long time but we're finally here!
> 
> Please, enjoy!

The wind whistled sharply as it whipped past.

_”My children.”_

Tree branches slapped harshly against exposed skin.

_”The First Seal has been opened.”_

Laboured breathing - hard and heavy.

_”Tell everyone: the Reaping is upon us!”_

A panicked cry. A series of muted thuds.

_”Only the Pure will be admitted into the Garden of Eden."_

Rook went flying down the side of the mountain, smacking into rocks and trees alike as she struggled to right herself in the madness.

_"Take these sinners away.”_

By some miracle, she did and she was off again.

Blood, hot and wet and sickly sweet, dripped from her fresh wounds. Rook’s whole body _ached_ but she kept moving. Because if she stopped - if she _dared_ stop - she would die.

Inside her lizard brain, that part sequestered deep in her subconscious, so tightly knitted into her DNA it made her breathe without thinking, a voice screamed to move.

And she did.

Her ankle throbbed every time she pressed it against the soft soil of the forest floor. With every wheezy inhale, her bruised ribs flashed with pain.

Rook took another step and her leg gave out, sending her sprawling into a heap. The pain rushed through her whole body - it blacked out her vision. Her scream froze in her throat. She released a wet gasp.

A steady, low ringing kept her from hearing anything else. The drumbeat of her heart numbed her to any other sensation.

And then her vision swam back into focus. Her cheek was pressed into the mossy soil. The vibration of heavy feet approaching told her it was over.

No.

No, it couldn’t be over.

Rook forced herself back up. Her body’s protests muted against the oppressive, instinctual need for survival.

She continued her mad dash through the woods. The sounds of the Peggies and their guns and their promises of death - they only drove her to move faster, disregard everything and anything. Rook scaled a hillock, her hands scraping against the dirt for leverage and then she caught sight of lights.

Her radio went off.

“Hello?” A voice crackled, “This is Marshal Burke. If anyone can hear me, I’m in the cabin to the West of the Henbane River. Please. Anyone.”

Rook moved.

_”But bring the Junior Deputy back alive and unharmed. No matter how many of you it takes.”_

**~ * ~**

Rook stared listlessly into the river.

Advanced thought escaped her, the mounting exhaustion limiting her cerebral functions until only the most basic parts were firing off instructions. Instructions she wasn’t listening to.

It was such a clean blue - like something out of a movie or one of those picture adverts for some remote island in the Bahamas. Even the blood that turned it momentarily pink couldn’t detract from its beauty.

Rook could see all the way to the bottom. To the silty riverbed and the occasional dark rock littered here and there, she could see the flash of scales as tiny Smallmouths and Rock Bass swam by, paying her little mind. 

She lifted her hands out of the water and stared at them. At the rivulets of bloody water tracing pathways through the folds and contours and crevices of her skin. At the callouses that had formed on her palms from the rough hold of the bow string and the pistol she had been using. It put her in a hypnotic trance of some sort - tracking the route the water took as it meandered down her skin. 

It was shiny, a dark, primal part of her mind said, pretty and shiny. And bad.

So much had changed in - what had it been? Twenty-four hours? Forty-eight? More? When did she last sleep?

Too long, her body throbbed back, a dull ache shooting through all of her joints and seizing her muscles. The cold water didn’t help.

Was any of this even real anymore?

One moment she was being harassed by Staci’s awful, nervous jokes. The next she was stuck deep in the county with no backup and both feet stuck deep in matters she had no interest in involving herself in.

Dutch had blamed her but it wasn’t her fault, it _wasn’t_. Earl had told the Marshal to leave well enough alone. And not just in the church - before it as well. While they were in the chopper too. If it was anyone’s fault, it was the Marshal’s. 

Not that blaming him helped anyone at that point. Not when he was in desperate need of help.

Rook grimaced and lowered herself into the water. The rushing water and the rhythmic thumping of her heart calmed her and her violent, intrusive thoughts. It grounded her.

Those thoughts had led her astray once. She wouldn’t let them do it again.

With a gasp, Rook rose out of the water, her spirits renewed. A shiver wracked through her body as the chilly wind blew at her wet skin, her hair, her clothes but Rook relished in it. It only served to strengthen the newfound resolve a dip in the river had provided.

Her very own baptism of sorts.

The Seeds were hunting for her, Rook understood that. And she had to raise as much hell as possible - Dutch’s orders. She also had to build a team. She was going against an army, after all. Well, she had cleared his island, but if Dutch wanted the Seeds to face Hell, Rook would bring it to them, arm-in-arm with her future rag-tag crew. 

And she knew just who to start with.

**~ * ~**

“Yo, that shit was awesome man, like seriously. Wicked cool. The way you forward rolled and slammed into that Angel, dude - like, and then you shot and your bullet hit? The other Angel? In the face? Like dude! How that was proper _badass_ lemme tell you. You know, for an officer who upholds fairly restrictive laws, you’re really awesome, I gotta tell you.”

Rook wiped the streak of blood off of her face with the back of her hand. Her shirt was positively drenched with blood - and really it was only because she used that Angel as a human shield when the turret trucks had shown up. But Boshaw was impressed and hopefully that was all she would need to convince him.

“Thanks,” She said, “Before we go any further, you _do_ know we’ve met before, right? I’d feel like I was cheating you if I didn’t let you know that I have seen you without your pants on.”

“Most people have, Deputy,” Sharky said with unsettling nonchalance, “But yeah, I think I remember you. You were with Staci Pratt, weren’t you? Hey, I heard about the helicopter crash, man. Major bummer. He get out okay?”

It was something Rook hadn’t actively been thinking about. Staci, Earl, Hudson, hell, even the Marshal. Whether they were alive or dead didn’t matter, Rook couldn’t help them just then, and she filed it away as a problem to deal with in the future.

Rook just shrugged, “I don’t know. But I’m hoping to find out. The real question is if you’re going to help me or what? I’m planning on taking down the Cult and I wouldn’t mind having an extra pair of hands helping me.”

“Aw, shit son!” He whooped, “Hell yeah, I’ll join! Disco inferno for life! Dude, we’re going to be like Tango and Cash - only I wanna Tango.”

“Yeah, you can be Sylvester Stallone.”

“For real?”

This was easier than she thought.

Rook grinned, “Yeah. For real.” 

Sharky was practically vibrating where he stood, “Aw, dude, this is gonna be the _shit_. We’re totally gonna be roastin’ Peggy ass and takin’ Peggy name. I’m so excited, man, like - look at me, look at me, I’m shaking, man. I’m shaking.”

Sharky shoved his hand in front of Rook and he was, indeed, shaking. Rook wondered if maybe this was a bad idea. But from the way Sharky happily louped over towards her ‘borrowed’ truck, she also knew she wouldn’t have the heart to call it off.

They settled in, Sharky refused to wear a seatbelt, and Rook opened up her map to check out where to go next. Dutch had circled some spots with potential recruits and Sharky leaned over to look at the map. He pointed at a place just North of where they were in the trailer park, near the Whitetails.

“That’s where Peaches is. She’s vicious, man. One time, she bit off a dude’s arm cause he tried to touch her. And then she ate it. Man, I threw up so much that day.”

Rook looked at him, horror-stricken. Just who did Dutch want to join her crew?

“Is Peaches…?”

“A cougar? Yup.”

“Oh.” That was a slight comfort, “Is she wild?”

“Peaches? Nah, she’s as domesticated as a cat can get. Don’t give her too many belly rubs and she won’t rip your face off.” Sharky peered closer at the map. He poked another place on the map, “Hey, that’s where my Uncle Hurk lives.”

Any relative of Sharky’s was sure to be… interesting. Did Dutch circle some of these as a joke?

“Is he any good with a gun?”

“He’ll shoot your head clean off if you try to take it away from him.”

Rook considered that, “How likely do you think it is that he’d join us?”

“Well, and I don’t mean any offense by this, Dep, lemme just start by saying that, cause I think you are freaking awesome and that we are going to be the best of friends but Uncle Hurk already hates you.”

Rook raised her brows at that, “Oh really? And why does he already hate me, despite having never met me?”

“It’s because you’re a person. See, Uncle Hurk may seem like a sexist racist gun-toting old geezer - and he is all that - but he also hates every human being equally. If he could be the only person on the planet, that’d still be too many people, ya get me?”

“Not exactly. But look, would he join our team?”

“Honestly? No. But you do know who would join us? My cousin Hurk Junior. He’s great and he loves adventures and I haven’t seen him in a while and I’d kinda really like to go road-tripping with him.”

“Sharky,” Rook said slowly, “We are taking down the Cult, not going on a vacation.”

“You’ll find most contemporary word definitions don’t usually sail the same way with me. You call it public indecency, I call it a fun way to spend my afternoon.”

“Are you going to be naked a lot while we work together?”

“That is something you might have to accustom yourself to, yes.”

Rook keyed the car into life and reversed it out of the trailer park.

“Great,” she muttered under her breath, “A nudist pyromaniac. Why not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even have to say it, you guys already know about my disdain for first chapters.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this - the final, actual dive into the story.
> 
> It only took over 30k words to get here. Only.
> 
> Maybe this will become the new Beowulf, who knows. Or if I pencil in enough bad BDSM sex scenes I can sell it to some big publisher and have it turned into the next Fifty Shades.


	2. Welcome to the Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeah I'm sorry this took a while, but I've been busy with work again. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!

“Thanks again, dude, for gettin’ Nancy back and helping me kick Peggie ass.” He kissed his fingers and pointed them up to the sky, “And thank you too, Monkey King! Hopefully, Daddy’ll finally let me sleep on the couch again.”

Rook smiled - honestly smiled until her face hurt - and laughed. It had been an _interesting_ job to say the least, if a bit long windkng . From the trip up, to the trip down, and especially their little getaway chase - it was nice being able to _shoot_ the turret instead of getting _shot_ by it.

And even now, the excitement was thrumming low and quiet in her veins. Not quite dissipating even though the thrill was over. Nancy, the modified behemoth of a truck, stood tall and proud a few feet away, a thin stream of wispy smoke emanating from the turret barrel as it cooled in the early evening air.

“It wasn’t a problem at all, Hurk. Just let me know when you’re free so we can get to-”

“Hey! You! Piss-for-brains!”

“Uh,” Sharky said, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot, “I think he means you, Dep. Though you never can tell with Uncle Hurk.”

Rook looked warily over her shoulder. Hurk Drubman Senior was rocking back and forth on his chair with increasing vigor, puffing away at his off-brand, “All-American” Cuban cigar like he was a coal train working overtime. She caught the flash of his eyes and the barely masked hostility behind them.

“Are you deaf?” He yelled, “Get over here!”

Peaches the Cougar, one of Rook’s newest members (and already one of her favourites) let out a snarl, flicking her ears back and baring her teeth at him.

“And tell that goddamned fleabag to zip it before I pump it full of lead.”

Peaches just snarled again, louder and more menacing this time. Rook just sighed and made her way towards the grouchy man and his dyed mustache. There was no way his hair wasn’t dyed - especially given Hurk’s own age.

“Yes, Mr Drubman?” Rook began, as politely as she could.

The man had a rifle resting on his lap and seemed to possess a twitchy trigger finger. No need to press her luck and quite literally poke the bear.

He slowed his rocking, squinting up at her from underneath his red hat. He brought his fake Cuban up to his mouth, made a show of taking a puff, and blew the smoke right in Rook’s face. She kept her expression neutral and forced her eyes not to water even as her lungs gave a jolt and her throat itched. Hurk Drubman Senior let out a snort and narrowed his eyes further, though the aggression seemed to lessen to a low simmer.

If that was some sort of test - Rook lowered her shoulders - she believed she’d just passed.

“I’ve got big plans, _Deputy_ ,” The way he - and most of the Peggies - spat her title out almost had her flinching, “for this state. Those damned snow-flake libtards have taken things too far. I’m in the runnin’, you see, but I’m finding that it isn’t exactly as simple as I’d thought, especially since my only help is that useless mouth-breathin’ son of mine. That’s why I’m making you my Campaign Manager.”

“ _Me_?” Rook found herself asking, confusion slipping into her tone, “Sorry, Mr Drubman, but I think I should tell you that I’ve got no experience working in politics.”

Had no interest in it, either.

He grunted, pointing the end of his ashy cigar her way, “That’s exactly why. You aren’t soft like the rest of those grass snakes. You’ve got balls, for a woman, and aren’t afraid to assert your rights the only way a red-blooded American should: with a gun. And that’s exactly what I need for my Campaign. Not smarmy, suit-wearing smart-asses - no. I want you.”

Rook opened her mouth, to politely try and disengage from this nonsense, but Hurk Drubman Senior just rolled right on by.

“So, for your first task, yer goin’ to take Junior here and get him out of my goddamned sight. I’m sick of him going on about that fuckin’ monkey god of his and that goddamned “Hurk’s Gate” bullcrap.”

“Aw, Daddy, I can really go with them?” Hurk Junior asked excitedly, far more excited than a man in his forties should look. 

Then again, he was related to Sharky, and the few days Rook had spent with him had cemented her belief that small-town people were out of their minds. It was safer - if Rook wanted to keep her sanity - to just let the madness roll off of her like water off of a duck’s back.

“You see what I’ve got to deal with,” Hurk Senior grumbled to Rook before sighing, “Yes, Junior. You’re going to go with the Deputy here and follow whatever she says, that clear?”

“Sweet! Aw, but, I’m kinda busy right now. I gotta finish up this little thank-you ritual I got goin’ on for the big Monkey King in the sky.” Hurk drawled.

“Not that damned monkey thing again. You’d think just cause that gold-diggin’ whore of a wife of mine dropped him on his head a few times as a kid, he’d turn out fine. But no, he’s such a fuckin’ disappointment. D’you know he still doesn’t know how to fix his fly? Fifty-fuckin’ years old and he can’t wear pants like a real man.”

Rook shifted from one foot to the other, casting quick looks over towards the man in question. Sharky was talking animatedly with his cousin, something about a precious “adventure” of Hurk Junior’s and Rook was glad he didn’t hear his father’s abuse.

Hurk Senior just shook his head, “Whatever. You’ve been given your orders, now get the fuck offa my property.”

What a charmer.

Still, Rook forced a pleasant smile on her face and walked away from the patio.

“It was nice meeting you, Mr Drubman,” she lied over her shoulder.

He was muttering something, something that suspiciously sounded like a question regarding her affiliations with Canada. What a weirdo. Then again, the whole County was filled to the brim with weirdos, so what was one more?

When she drew close enough, Sharky threw his arm around her shoulders as if they were the best of buds and they hadn’t only known each other for a couple of days. Sharky didn’t seem to understand personal boundaries. Then again, Hurk had professed they’d be the best of friends almost as quickly as his cousin had, so Rook supposed she’d better get used to _this_ as well.

“Yo, Hurky here says he’s kinda busy right now. Some right of passage or whatever for his monkey dude. But he says we can get a headstart wherever and he’ll join us.”

“I’m gonna be throwin’ back so many brewskies, man. Like, I won’t even be able to see straight. Hey!” His eyes brightened and he pushed his bandana up higher on his forehead, “You wanna join my cult?”

“ _You_ have a cult?” Rook asked, trying to keep the dubiousness out of her voice and failing.

Sure. Why not. Small town people, she tried to tell herself. The culture shock was going to get to her one of these days.

“Course! Them Seed bros could do it, so I thought, why the hell not, ya know? Anyway, it’s called Hurk Gate, and there are only three things you gotta do if you wanna enter: party, slam down brews, and offer thanks to the Monkey King.” He hummed for a moment, “Though, I’ve been thinking. I might do something similar to them Eden’s Gate broskis with the whole Bliss Baptisms. ‘Cept, ‘stead of Blissed water, we could just use, like, beer.”

Sharky let out an enthusasitc sound and jostled Rook, “That’s fuckin’ _genius_ , cuz!”

Rook just nodded.

“Sounds like a swell idea, listen, how long until your, uh, “right of passage” take?”

“Oh, maybe the whole weekend, man. I don’t plan on staying sober now that I don’t gotta sleep outside.”

“Right.” Rook looked at her plastic Mickey Mouse watch (it had been the only one available in the gift shop she had raided on their way up to ‘Fort Drubman’), “Well, it’s Wednesday today.”

“Uhuh.”

“So should I expect you by Friday?” She asked.

“Nah, dude. I just said I won’t be free till the weekend.”

Rook blinked.

“You’re going to be blackout drunk for _four days_?”

“If my Daddy don’t try’n stop me, then hell yeah!”

“Sure,” Rook said weakly, “Right. Well. If your liver survives, I’ll radio you our coordinates on Monday.”

“Sweet. Oh, hey, before I forget. These two people came running by the other day. Just like, beat to shit, right? Well, ‘fore my Daddy tried to shoot at ‘em, they said they had some intel on John Seed’s Bunker. They said they knew where it was place and how it’s laid out or whatever and if we knew where the Whitetail Militia were hiding out so they could pass the information on. Seeing as you plan on takin’ down the cult, why not start with them?”

“John’s got a bunch of people locked up in those confession cells of his,” Sharky added, “Wouldn’t be bad to have our own army.”

Rook considered that for a moment. If it was just her, Peaches and Sharky, it was totally possible to sneak into the Bunker - at least just to scope it out, if not to break anyone free. She wanted the shit in the County to end as quickly as possible, and if she could hit the Cult at its core: that would certainly speed up the process.

“Alright,” She said slowly, “Any idea where those guys are now?”

“Well, I mean not _really_ ,” Hurk admitted, “But I’m sure if you wandered around enough, you’d find them eventually. I’d check out any bars - after having to sit through John’s bullshit for weeks, I’d want to get drunk as hell.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a plan, but thanks.”

“Plans are for pussies,” Sharky offered.

Rook sighed. Right. Of course. Patience, Rook, you can get through this.

“Well, thanks for the intel, Hurk. I’ll see you on Monday. Sharky, Peaches, time to hit the road. Looks like we’re hunting down two strangers in a whole County full of strangers,” She mumbled under, “No biggie.”

“Aw, yeah, road trip!”

Peaches yowled her agreement and made a dash towards the beaten blue sedan Rook had “borrowed”, eager to settle down in the front seat and enjoy the full-blast of the rattling AC.

“Hey! No fair!” Sharky exclaimed, running after her, “I wanna sit in the front this time! You sat in the front when we came up here!”

Peaches hissed but Sharky was firm in “riding shotgun” and didn’t succumb even when she made a swipe his way. Rook didn’t attempt to intervene and pretended like nothing was happening. She just settled behind the wheel, buckled herself in and prayed that she would get some sort of sign as to what she was supposed to do.

**~ * ~**

Rook kicked the door. It swung inwards, slamming against the wall, the lock effectively broken. She brought her shotgun down and did a quick scan of the place. Empty. Peaches darted in from behind her, low to the ground and a rumbling growl emanating from deep inside her. Rook could feel Sharky’s presence behind her as he kept guard.

“All clear,” Rook said once Peaches had slinked inside the back room and came back empty handed.

“Shit,” Sharky grumbled, “They got any beer though?”

Rook checked along the shelves behind the bar. The bottles were few and near empty for the most part. She did spot a bottle of brandy stashed behind a few empty bottles of gin and decided Sharky didn’t need to know about it. Besides, she was running low on molotovs anyway and it wouldn’t do if Peggies decided to show up and she didn’t have anything to keep them at bay. Though the number of potential forest fires she’d played a part in instigating was starting to make her stomach grow queasy with guilt. 

“Nope,” she said, striding in and snatching the bottle up, stuffing it into her travel bag. “All empty. Time to get back into the car and try someplace else.”

They piled back into the newest car Rook had repossessed - a minivan and were off once more. The windows were down, the radio was on low, playing snippets of the news that the Peggies hadn’t been able to cut off.

Peaches was in the back, laying on Rook’s rolled out bedroll. Her purring contended with the rumbling of the van’s engine, but only just lost as she burrowed down and settled in to sleep. Sharky was up in front beside her, his arm hanging out of the window and tapping the hood along to a song only he could hear. 

Rook was busy concentrating on the road ahead. At the windy, bindy, twists and turns. Checking her peripherals constantly for any deer or moose or bear or other medium sized woodland creature with suicidal tendencies.

The front of the minivan was already dented from roadkill, and if another body - human or animal - slammed into it, there was a dangerous likelihood that the engine would explode. Or so Sharky claimed.

After taking circuitous routes through the Whitetails, they had been travelling through the Henbane for a few days now, checking every bar that had the gall to stay open despite the Cult’s occupation, and even ones that hadn’t. So far, they had been wildly unsuccessful. It had been Sharky’s suggestion to venture into the Valley - more specifically the Spread Eagle in Fall’s End. 

Aside from their newest failure, the day was a pleasant one - bright, cloudy and quiet. It was getting warmer - but you still needed a thick jacket for the night times. That was one thing Rook still wasn’t used to - just how _cold_ Montana was. She was sure it got below freezing some nights, and if it wasn’t for Peaches and her supernatural, furnace-like body heat, Rook would have died of hypothermia long before any Peggie could get to her.

“You think we’ll ever find those two?” Sharky asked idly after a half hour of silence.

“Who knows. Besides, I think Dutch mentioned something about the Valley, but I can’t remember what - I was kinda out of it back then. Maybe there was someone I had to meet?”

“Well, the only notable places in the Valley are Fall’s End and like, Rae-Rae’s Farm. But unless Dutch wants us to go pumpkin picking, I don’t think he wants us there.”

She didn’t miss his use of “us”. Sharky had settled himself into his role of her second-hand-man with such ease it was almost alarming. But Rook supposed it was a good sign. He didn’t ask awkward questions and seemed to take everything she said at face value. That kind of trust didn’t come often. Rook just hoped she didn’t ever abuse it.

“Hmm. Maybe. Well, we’ll find out when we get close to the town. I’ll radio Dutch in and ask him.”

“Hey, Dep?”

“Yeah, Sharky?”

“That car has been following us for a while now.”

Rook’s eyes darted straight up to the cracked rear view mirror. There was indeed a car following after them. She had been far too preoccupied with their surroundings; she'd forgotten they were completely exposed from behind. 

It looked like a civilian vehicle though. A red sedan with ‘Sinner’ in bright white paint marking the hood. Though the number of shaggy-haired Peggies in there, certainly wasn’t reminiscent of a civilian vehicle.

“How long have they been following us?” Rook asked, keeping her tone neutral.

“I noticed them a few minutes back myself. Thought I was seein’ things.”

“You definitely weren’t.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, bringing his arm back in and loading his shotgun with practiced motions, his eyes glued to the side-view mirror, “That’s for sure.”

Rook, one eye on the road, another on the car behind them, pushed the accelerator down all the way to the bottom. The minivan lurched forward, the engine roaring as it ate up the road faster underneath its tires. For a moment, the gap between the minivan and the car widened. And then they realised that Rook had caught on. And all hell broke loose.

The first spread of bullets took out the back windscreen and the front one. Peaches yowled nastily, her nails digging into the bedroll as she swung her head this way and that, senses going haywire. Rook had ducked down, trying to avoid shrapnel and glass and the minivan veered to the side.

Sharky leaned out of the passenger side window, his shotgun letting out loud bands as he tried his best to shoot back. But when the second barrage of bullets shot at the sides of the van, Rook knew he hadn’t succeeded. 

“Hang on!” Rook screamed over the third hail of bullets.

Sharky slid back into his seat and held on tight, looking white-faced. Rook kept her eyes firmly on the road, the accelerator slammed all the way down, both hands on the wheel as she threw the car into a sharp turn. Dirt and dust flew into the air, creating a temporary smoke screen as they veered into the turn and once Rook had the barest semblance of control, she righted the van and they were off again, taking down a sign in their haste.

The bullets stopped momentarily as Rook serpentined the van this way and that, driving up into the foliage - only just missing trees and tree-stumps - but taking down bushes and saplings foolish enough to stand in her way. They burst through the forest and back onto the road, passing a sign proclaiming they were heading closer towards the Valley.

“I think we’re fine for now,” Sharky breathed, his grip on the handlebar white. And then, “Oh shit. Peggies!”

Rook slammed the breaks but there was no use. It was a Peggie roadblock smack dab in the middle of the bridge. Turret trucks, cement blocks, red tape, a lorry, mounted turrets - even a helicopter hovering just above them. It was the whole nine yards. And they had spotted them. The van swerved to a halt.

Rook panted, hunched over the wheel, her heart hammering in her chest. Peaches let out an anxious, questioning growl and even Sharky seemed shaken.

“Deputy Rook,” a Peggie called, using a megaphone from behind the roadblock. His voice came out muffled and static, but decipherable. “Get out of your vehicle and submit yourself or we will open fire.”

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath. Rook cast a wild look around to try and find a way out. Nothing. Not even some dumb, last minute Macgyver-ed solution.

“Deputy Rook. If you do not submit yourself in ten seconds, we will open fire. Step out of the car with your hands above your head and come here.”

“Let’s just drive away, Rook.” Sharky didn’t even sound confident when he said it. If not the turrets, the helicopter would definitely tear them to shreds.

“If you submit yourself, Deputy, we won’t harm your… associates. This is your last warning!”

“No,” Rook said, “Get out of the car, Sharky. Peaches, I’m opening the back, you’re getting out too, girl.”

Peaches let out another, louder, more worried yowl of protest but Rook had made up her mind.

“Ten!”

“Rook - I - we can’t - just _no_!”

Her tone came out harsher than she intended, “Get out of here!”

“Eight!”

“Sharky, this isn’t time for heroics - get _out_ \- and take Peaches with you!”

“Six! Deputy, do _not_ test us. We _will_ shoot.”

Rook didn’t doubt that.

“Chica,” Sharky grabbed her arm and forced her to look him in the eye, “We are gonna ride or die.”

“Four!”

Rook didn’t think twice. She took her pistol out of its holster and pulled the hammer down, pointing it straight at Sharky’s head. Peaches was letting out nervous sounds, scared out of her little kitty brain. It hurt Rook but this was the only way.

“Get. Out.” She hissed.

Sharky stared at her for a beat.

“Three!”

He didn’t look scared or angry. He looked sad. Maybe disappointed.

“ _Please_.” The word was ripped from her throat.

“Two! Aim at the van.”

“We’ll come and save you, Deputy,” Sharky promised her. Rook nodded.

Sharky got out of the car and ran to the back, wrenching the doors open so Peaches could get out. And then he ran, his shotgun in one hand as he beckoned for Peaches to follow him. Peaches was yowling in distress, her head turned so she could send Rook a worried look with her mismatched eyes. But they were going to be safe. Rook could play make-up later. If she survived.

“One! You had your chance, Deputy.”

“Wait!” She screamed, forcing the car door open and falling out of the driver’s seat onto the bridge. The concrete scraped against her palm as she forced herself to her knees, “Don’t shoot!”

“Hold!”

Rook got to her feet slowly, trying to buy Sharky and Peaches as much time as she could. Slipping her pistol into the back of her jeans, Rook stood tall and brought her arms above her head in a show of peace.

“Submit yourself, Deputy. John wishes to speak to you.”

“Oh, I bet he does,” She grumbled to herself as she began the walk across the bridge.

It wasn’t a particularly long bridge - not like some of the other ones that connected the three parts of the County were - but Rook walked slowly across it, dragging it out to the point she could see the Peggies behind the turrets shuffling with annoyance. She had absolutely no plan and thought she might as well wing it. It worked for her before.

Though, as she drew closer, and saw so many Peggies faces bare down at her, anger and disgust conflicting until she felt like nothing more than a filthy bug, Rook considered that maybe she _should_ have come up with some plan other than following their every order to a ‘t’. There certainly weren’t enough rounds in her pistol to take them all out without risking death to herself.

When she got close enough, a Peggie came up behind her and grabbed her hands, forcing them down roughly behind her back with more aggression than necessary and forced them into tight cuffs. He also took the pistol away and stole away the throwing knives she had strapped to her thigh leaving her effectively naked.

“Hey, hey, _easy_ ,” she huffed, moving herself until the restrains weren’t chafing her skin or pulling on her muscles.

The Peggie that had bound her made them a touch tighter, until she hissed.

“Shut up, Sinner.”

Alright, no need to be so _testy_. I listened to what you guys said - this is just abuse.”

“Can we knock her out?” The Peggie demanded as another one drew closer, his hair pulled into a bun similar to Joseph’s but his beard significantly scragglier.

“No,” he said, and Rook recognised him as the one with the megaphone, “John said we aren’t to harm her in any way.”

“It’ll just be a bump on the head.” 

The _way_ the Peggie said it, Rook doubted it’d be _only_ a bump.

“We could use some Bliss?” A pretty female Peggie added, “It won’t injure her.”

The Peggie with a manbun - who seemed to be their leader - considered it.

“No.” Rook said, “No, no, no, _no_. You’re not getting any of that shit near me.” She took a step back and bumped into the gruff Peggie with a - she twisted around to see him properly - bald head and massive beard in the chest. His hands struck forward and grabbed at her arms like they belonged there. How romantic. “John wanted me unharmed? Well, that Bliss shit of yours would fry my fucking brain!”

“Shut _up_.”

The Peggie with a beard snarled at her, grabbing at her wrists and squeezing with his big, meaty hands until her vision went red. She gasped and her knees threatened to buckle. Something was going to twist or break. The Peggie let up and Rook’s wrists burned white-hot. _Shit_ they weren’t messing around.

“Did we pack any Bliss darts?” The ringleader asked, completely ignoring what was happening in front of him. So much for making sure she was unharmed.

“I did! Here.”

The pretty Peggie went away for a moment to rummage in one of the trucks, but Rook was too busy trying to regulate her heart rate and trying hard not to cry because _ouch_ her wrists hurt.

When she got free, the Peggie behind her was _dead_.

“Here we go!”

The female Peggie returned and delivered a handful of capped darts into her leader’s waiting hands. He held onto one and pocketed the others. He turned to her, a grim expression on his face.

“Hold her still,” he said idly.

The Peggie brute squeezed her wrists again and Rook thrashed like an animal.

“I said _still_ , Markus!

“Whoops,” Markus the brute grinned nastily.

He shifted his grip until he held onto her forearms and forced her still. The ring leader neared and no amount of bucking was going to free Rook. He injected the Bliss into Rook’s arm and she hissed, trying to somehow headbutt him or kick him or bite him or _anything_ to retaliate but the Bliss worked fast and as soon as it made contact with her blood, flowers and lights exploded across her eyes.

Her limbs grew heavier and her ears rang until the only sound was her rattling breathing.

The stars and flowers danced and gave way to the creeping darkness near the edges of her vision. She slumped in Markus’ hold, boneless and pliant. She could feel when he adjusted her and threw her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing - as insignificant as a sack of potatoes.

Would she make tasty potatoes? Eleanor wanted potatoes.

The darkness took her.

**~ * ~**

When she awoke, it was to the sensation of complete and utter pain. She groaned, her head aching worse than a hangover and she tried to move her hand. A _clank_ sounded and her hand didn’t move. Wait, a _clank_?

“Go alert John,” A voice murmured, a man’s voice, a stranger’s voice, “the Sinner is awake.”

“I’ll go now.” That was a woman. Also unfamiliar. Where _was_ she?

Rook realised she was horizontal on a soft, comfortable surface. A bed. She was on a bed. Which was odd.

Rook groaned out louder, all the thinking and questions was hurting her head more.

“Stay still, Sinner. John will be here shortly.”

“Who?” she rasped, grimacing when her head throbbed. Rook swore, ignoring the annoyed noise the man let out in favour of regulating her breathing. Opening her eyes too quickly was going to make them hurt.

“The Father knows why John thinks you’re so important. But he hasn’t led us astray yet, so you might have some use. You should be grateful they’re so forgiving. If I had been in their place, considering the hell you’ve been raising, I wouldn’t be so merciful.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Rook opened her eyes and found a Peggie staring down at her, dark eyes wild with zealous passion. His hair was pushed back into a bun and he had a scraggly beard - wait a minute, Rook knew him. 

He advanced closer, baring down at her, a frown tugging on his face. The only time Rook was this close to a Peggie, it was when she was killing them.

Rook tried her other hand and found that they were both handcuffed securely to the bed. Her legs were free. Boy, oh, _boy_ did they underestimate her. Not that she had a plan just yet, but she would come up with one soon enough. Then, when she busted out, she’d regroup with Dutch and Sharky and Peaches and Hurk before coming back. And then she’d have her revenge.

The Peggie sent her a disgusted look, “The Father says that no one is past forgiveness, but I think you’re an exception to that case.”

“Now, now, brother Mayhew. Our Deputy here may bring about her fair share of destruction, but it isn’t her fault. Not completely.”

The Peggie jerked away from Rook and shambled into what looked like a hurried bow.

“J-John! I - we - I’m so sorry. That was wrong of me. I shouldn’t be saying that - w-we have to-”

“We have to _love_ her, Mayhew. But it’s alright. Go, my friend. I’ll deal with our dear Deputy here.”

Rook tested her handcuffs again, a thrum of desperation shooting up her spine. The rattling caught John’s attention and he shifted those unnerving blue eyes from Mayhew onto her.

“And please let the others know we aren’t to be disturbed. Have the hallway cleared.”

Mayhew scrunched his brows but nodded anyway, “Of course, John! I’ll make sure of it myself.”

Mayhew attempted at a bow again and scurried off, his gun clattering against his back with each hurried step. John, on the other hand, took his time to close the thick, steel door behind the Peggie before grabbing a metal folding chair beside the doors and preambling closer to where Rook was laying. He set the folding chair down and watched her for a moment, one hand on the back of the chair, one hand fisted by his side, a furrow appearing between his brows as he bore into her soul with those uncomfortably blue eyes.

_Why was he so familiar?_

“Do you really not remember me?” He murmured finally, breaking the tense silence that had settled between them.

The handcuffs jangled, mockingly, as Rook shifted. John’s eyes flickered towards the cuffs momentarily and then he moved to sit on the chair, his hands collapsed between his knees as he leaned towards her - a penitent sinner. Rook didn’t know much about John Seed, but she did know that he was called the ‘Baptist’. Funny, if the rumors were true, did he baptise in blood?

“Am I supposed to?”

John’s eyes, wide and expressive as they were, darkened with some unfamiliar emotion. Rook wanted to call it anger, but it wasn’t that at all. Disappointment? Sadness? What did it matter so long as he didn’t look like he wanted to kill her - or worse.

“When I was a child,” John began, his voice soft, eyes softer, and he leaned back in his chair, cocking his head to the side as he watched her, “my parents used to beat my brothers. Ruthlessly. Viciously. Sometimes until they grew unconscious.”

Rook wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“They never beat me. Couldn’t. My brothers would take the beatings for me. Jacob more so than Joseph, until Jacob went to a Juvie because he set our house on fire. We had to move then, to a slightly bigger town - tiny still, compared to some of the others, but nowhere near as desolate as Rome had been.”

“Where are you going with this?” Rook muttered. 

Their positions were disconcerting. Maybe that’s why he had chosen it - to mess with her. She felt like a meal, laid out and helpless. She could still kick if it came down to it, but the mounting fear of just _why_ he’d chained her down to a _bed_ of all things questioned if that was going to be enough. Rook didn’t know if she could put it past them. They were murders, maybe monsters too.

“I was a lonely child, Deputy. I didn’t have many friends. And then one day, a new family moved in. A couple and their teenage daughter. She didn’t have any friends in the start either and took pity on a sad, lonely child.”

Rook’s train of thought crashed to a halt. John stopped, watching the realisation, the _horror_ flit across her face as she put the pieces together. The handcuffs bit into her wrists as she strained against them.

“John?” She breathed out weakly, “The kid down the road?”

John smiled, “Surprise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this count as a cliff-hanger?
> 
> They're finally meeting again! I had contemplated dragging it out an extra chapter and then thought: screw it. So here we are!


	3. As Far as Reunions Go, That Was Awful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I end up writing so much for these chapters and then have to cut them up weirdly just to make them fit so a lot of scenes end up getting shuffled around. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

“No.” She murmured, eyes widening, “No, no, no, no - _John_? You can’t - you aren’t-”

“John Seed? I am indeed. I thought you might have remembered us, but clearly you haven’t.” He smiled ruefully, “I thought so much about you, Eleanor. Ever since that day in the station.”

“Tell me this is a joke - tell me this is some _sick_ joke!”

Rook strained hard against her handcuffs, hard enough that her wrists stung and her muscles ached with the unfamiliar strain.

“You’re lying! John was a good kid - he was a _good kid_!”

Something warm was trickling down her wrist, a thin stream, and somewhere far away in her mind she knew it was blood but couldn’t care. She was trapped in the cold, dull embrace of disbelief and was numb to the world. The last time she had felt like this, she had a phone to her ear and was being told her parents had died in a car crash. Her world had crumbled then.

The sensitive little boy she knew was a sadistic monster. Her quiet, kind, sweet senior was a sociopath. Their jerk of an older brother - actually, Jacob was fine, he had always rubbed Rook the wrong way, but not enough to lead to _this_. The Seeds had been sad kids, yes. Rook had been heartbroken when she found out, _yes_. But this wasn’t how it was supposed to-

“Eleanor, look at me.”

John Seed was in front of her. Ghosts of his childhood overlapped with the monster he had become as he hovered in front of her. Back bent, eyes frantic, mouth a thin line, his hands just above her as if he wasn’t sure what to do.

“You’re panicking, I need you to breathe.” He moved his hands towards her.

“ _Get away from me_!”

John backed a few inches instantly. A troubled look flashed but Rook was finding it hard to breathe. Her lungs kept stuttering and something was grasping at her throat, forcing only little puffs of air to pass through.

“I’m going to take these handcuffs off you, Eleanor. You’re hurting yourself. Just - stay still.”

He reached forward again and Rook acted on instinct. Her leg lashed out and only just missed him. John had dodged out of the way, narrowly avoiding a dislocated shoulder. His expression darkened.

“I’m trying to _help_ you!”

“Get the _fuck_ away from me!”

Someone banged on the heavy metal door.

“John! Are you alright? I heard-”

“I’m fine!” He snarled, blue eyes flashing as he turned to glare at the door, “I said leave us be!”

“But-”

“ _Now_!”

Silence rang through Rook’s ears - shrill and loud. She stared up at John, her chest heaving and her blood thrumming, and John stared right back, his mouth twisted into a harsh scowl. He didn’t hold many of those boyish features of his, but they had matured until she could almost call him handsome. When they had been younger, Rook would joke that John would be a heart-breaker, that he’d have anyone he wanted if he played his cards right. John had made a face then and claimed Rook was the only one he ever needed - alongside his brothers, of course.

Tears sprung up unbidden and she choked on a sob. John’s eyes creased at the corners and he looked away. The fight had left him.

“I’m going to undo the handcuffs, Deputy,” He said a moment later, voice pitched low and soothing like she was a wounded animal.

Rook said and did nothing, except cry quietly, and John reached over and undid first one and then the other handcuff with a key that was somehow in his hands. A soft hiss escaped her and she brought her bleeding wrists close to her chest. Her muscles were stiff but she adjusted herself so she was sitting upright, eyeing John, waiting for his mood to switch on a dime.

John didn’t look at her. He turned away and moved towards a desk - one Rook hadn’t even noticed. In fact, she hadn’t paid any attention to her surroundings - an amateur mistake.

Rook did now. It looked like a room in a luxury cabin from a life-time magazine - the sort her mother used to keep on the coffee table. All dark, sleek wood and darker, sleeker furniture. A wooden door was on one end, slightly ajar so Rook could see the dark marble wash basin. On the other end sat a heavy, wooden desk and a plush, leather desk-chair was set behind it. There was a set of metal balls Rook recognised as a Newton’s Cradle and John had set them off. 

As Rook sat up, she noticed that the bed-sheets she had been laying down upon were dark blue and silky to the touch. John definitely didn’t keep his prisoners here. Even if there were absolutely no windows.

John returned a moment later and held out a roll of gauze. Rook took it, eyeing him with open suspicion even as she wrapped up her wrists. The amount of cotton she’d gone through during her time in Hope County, it was a genuine miracle there was any left.

John fell back into his seat, unbuttoning the top two and sighing quietly to himself. His blue eyes were dulled, devoid of any manic spark or zeal. They locked eyes and stayed like that, John splayed on the uncomfortable folding chair and Rook hunched on the bed, the last of her tears drying. A heavy silence settling like a smothering blanket between them. 

“What happened?” Rook asked after a long time, eager to remove the oppressive air.

His gaze didn’t waver.

“You gave yourself up willingly to my followers when you neared a roadblock and were brought here.”

“I _meant_ that day, John. Whitehorse told me that you were adopted by some new family in a big city. I had thought things were finally going _good_ for you.”

_Whitehorse_! He _had_ to have known! Had to have known and never once told her. The thought sat like a lead weight.

“Atlanta,” John said, “Though, ‘good’ is subjective. Somehow the Duncans were even worse than dear old Mommy and Daddy, if you could believe. But they gave me my drive - they taught me lessons in life I can now depart onto others.”

“And what about all this? Why is Joseph-” Rook stopped, couldn’t continue with the thought. She shut her eyes, “God, when they told me about you guys, the _Seeds_ I thought - I, you guys didn’t even come to _mind_.”

“Yes, I’m sure we were _far_ from your mind, _Deputy_.”

“I was a child, John. And you and your brothers were _nice_ and _kind_ and always had a sweet word to say to me! You and I _played_ , John, every goddamn day after school!”

“You think I don’t remember that?” John exploded, rushing to his feet so fast the chair rocked back with a metallic bang, “When I was with the Duncans, all I ever did was hope that you would show up. How I _wished_ , how I _prayed_ that you would visit me. I thought you didn’t know. I thought something had happened to you - I thought you _hated_ me! You were my only friend and you _abandoned_ me!”

Rook physically recoiled. She didn’t like how he was digging up long buried guilt. Months after that horrible day at the precinct, Rook had considered meeting John. But she had always stopped herself, told herself that she’d just be a painful reminder of what he had to face. And if he was doing well, then she wouldn’t ruin it for him. But it had hurt and she _had_ thought of him. Because they _had_ been friends, despite everything. 

“What was I supposed to do?”

John snapped his mouth shut, jaw clenched tight. He was shaking. Rook was too.

“I looked for you for _so long_ ,” he said instead, after a heavy, drawn out moment, “I pulled every string I had at my disposal - which wasn’t even a lot in the start - and I tried to find you. It took me years to even find you again. And about the time Joseph came and found me, I had finally found you. Little Eleanor Rook was all grown up, had graduated from business school at the age of 22 and went missing. And at the age of _29_ finally reappeared back on American soil. And at 33, she _finally_ became a Deputy of the Law, just like her dear father. Oh, I found out about your parents too.” He flashed his teeth at her, grim and vicious, in a mockery of a smile, “My condolences by the way. Drunk drivers are _such_ a cliche way to go. Is that why it took you over ten years to get your life together?”

Rook was lost for words. A thousand thoughts swirled in her mind. A million reactions. None of them made themselves known.

She grit her teeth and hissed out a breath, “What the actual _fuck_ is wrong with you, John?”

John let out a sharp bark of mirthless laugh, “If we began on that list, I’m sorry to say we’d be here for a very, _very_ long time.”

“Let me go, John.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I finally got you after - God, I can’t even count how many - years, _Deputy_ ,” he spat her title out like it was an insult, “I’m not going to let you slip away from me quite so easily again.”

“You can’t _force_ me to stay either!”

John smiled then. Slow, lazy, predatory. Matched with the wild look in his eyes, Rook suddenly realised she was in very real danger. He reached forward and she pushed back. Still he drew close until he had her face in his hands. He leaned forward. Rook shut her eyes, her body refusing to respond to any of her demands. He kissed her forehead, feather-soft and barely there. And he released her.

“Just watch me, _Ellie_.”

**~ * ~**

Twenty four hours after Rook had woken up, she found herself pacing around the room. If she was feeling poetic, she’d say she was a caged animal. Rook wasn’t feeling poetic. She wasn’t feeling much except annoyance. John Seed and his brothers were crazy and now she was trapped in a cage. Rook wasn’t even sure if it counted as a gilded cage. It was pretty, sure, but it was frightfully spartan. The desk was empty and there were only so many times that Rook could shower - though, she had to admit that John had excellent taste in shampoo because her hair had never felt richer or smelt nicer.

It was so boring though. And without any windows, Rook couldn’t tell if it was day or night. The mute clock on the wall was useless. It was four o’clock, but in the morning or night - Rook couldn’t tell.

A firm knock echoed and Rook turned to look at the heavy metal door. A metal creak sounded as the wheel mechanism was turned and the door opened. John entered, two bowls of what looked like stir fry in his hands, and a female Peggie closed the door behind him, turning the wheel lock shut.

“Sorry it took me so long, Eleanor, but I thought we could have a late lunch together.”

Four in the afternoon then.

John offered her the bowl in his left hand. She reached for the one in his right hand. He huffed a laugh but went to sit on the desk. Rook moved to the other end of the room and rested her back against the wall. The stir fry was too salty, but the addition of paprika was a nice kick.

“How do you like it?” John asked, after a long, awkward silence.

“It’s fine.”

“You look so skinny. Your skin is practically hanging off your bones. Do you not eat properly?”

Rook sent him a sharp look. John just innocently ate a thinly sliced carrot.

“When you’re fighting for survival, making sure you get three square meals a day is kind of difficult.”

“Your life is never in danger, not from our side. Our men and women know that you aren’t to be harmed.”

“Funny. They seem to forget that when they’ve got their guns pointed at me.”

John frowned, his eyes downcast as he poked at his bowl.

“Now that you’re here, I’ll make sure everyone knows.”

“Make sure they know _what_?”

“Your importance. To the Family. To us. ”

Rook didn’t like how that sounded. Not one bit.

**~ * ~**

“Your scar is gone.”

“What?”

Rook looked over at John. He had been busy working through a stack of papers and left her to sit on the bed and twiddle her thumbs. Now he was sitting back on the chair, the pen caught between his teeth as he ran his gaze over her face.

“Do you remember? The one I gave you when I ran into you. The day we became friends.” A ghost of a smile flitted across his face and his eyes crinkled, “But, it’s gone now. And I can see you have another one.”

Rook’s hand moved up automatically to trace along that particular injury. It had been years but the scar was still there, a faint, pinkish line across her cheek, just below her eye.

“What’s the story behind it?”

“Nothing. An accident.”

John’s brows furrowed, “With what?”

“ _Nothing_ John. It isn’t any of your business.”

John didn’t like that, but he went back to his papers without another word.

**~ * ~**

“I’m bored out of my mind, John.”

He looked up from the salad he had been picking at. Rook had finished her but John had been oddly quiet and seemed to have something heavy on his mind.

“Oh. Really? Would you like something to read? I’ve got some books squirrelled away here. Nothing too fun, but there is this one series that’s got me a bit hooked. It’s called Oros: A Mesolithic Paradise.”

Rook made a face and John broke into a smile, the heaviness behind his eyes lightening some.

“Don’t make that face! It’s interesting, I promise. It’s a historical fiction about a primal hunter named Urk.”

“Sounds great.”

“It is, I promise!”

She sighed, “Instead of piling me with literature, how about you let me out of your bunker, John. I’ve been trapped down here for weeks now-”

“It’s only been four days-”

“-and I want to _leave_.”

“I can’t allow that, Eleanor.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s dangerous outside and I don’t want you getting hurt. The Collapse could happen any day and I don’t want you being caught up in it. You’re safer here, in my bunker.”

Rook clenched her jaw until her jaw squeaked. John had made it that escape was completely impossible. The only way she was going to get out was with John’s permission.

“I’m going to go crazy if I don’t see the sun, John. I don’t know if it’s morning or night or how many days have passed or -”

“You’re _safe_ ,” he grit out, “here in my bunker, Eleanor. Your safety is my top priority.”

“And what about my sanity?”

John rolled his eyes, “I’ll get you some books.”

“John, I’m serious.”

“And so am I, Eleanor. I’ll take you with me when I make a trip to the Ranch, but you’re going to stay here until then.”

Rook was going to escape before then - no matter what it took.

**~ * ~**

“So, the guy’s name was Jack Daniels-”

Rook scoffed, “You’re so funny.”

They were sitting a few feet apart on the floor, bowls of pasta and meatballs in hand, legs crossed and a mug of wine each. John had apologized about the lack of glasses, but Rook wasn’t particularly bothered. She needed alcohol to stave off the boredom and John’s books, while interesting, couldn’t keep her occupied all the time. Besides, Rook had never been much of a reader. 

“I’m not kidding!” John exclaimed, he put his hand on his chest, “Hand on heart: his name was _really_ Jack Daniels and he was the _slimiest_ man I’d ever met. And I worked with other lawyers. Hell, _I’m_ a lawyer.”

“You are pretty slimy,” Rook agreed as she took a bite of her buttered noodles.

“Funny. Anyway, this guy, Ell, he was something else. He thought he was really charming and suave and the ultimate cool cat.”

“Tell me you didn’t just say ‘cool cat’.”

“His words, not mine.”

“You’re so _lame_.”

“Shut up! I said it was his words, not mine Also stop interrupting me, it’s rude. So, JD here was the biggest asshole. God, he thought being rude to a woman was flirting. The number of complaints he got from HR was amazing - the largest on record. The funniest part - or maybe the saddest - was that he thought we were the bestest of friends. He was the kind of person who thought clerical politeness equalled romantic interest and the way he would speak to serving staff in restaurants always made me want to implode from second-hand embarrassment.”

Rook snorted, “He sounds like a swell guy.”

“Just the best. I’m surprised he didn’t think _I_ was hitting on him when I would show him the base level of human decency.”

“Well, were you?”

John shot her a glare and Rook grinned around another bite. The pasta was good. Really good.

“ _No_ , our friend JD just had his head stuck so far up his ass he wouldn’t care either way.”

Rook bit her tongue, deciding it wasn’t in her best interests to mention that John and ‘JD’ had quite a bit in common. 

“So what happened to him?”

“I don’t know. Joseph came along and I left with him before I could find out. He’s probably been asked to quit and has joined some other firm. He was a competent lawyer, but not as good as he liked to think.”

“And what about you? How good a lawyer were you?”

“Me?” John smiled at her, his eyes sparkling, “I’m the best property lawyer in the whole fucking country.”

**~ * ~**

Rook was going to go mad if she opened her eyes and she was still stuck in the room. Her eyes were shut, and even though she could hear the muffled sounds of the Peggies patrolling outside the room and the steady hum of the central air circulating system hard at work, all she saw was darkness and she could almost kid herself into believing none of it was real.

She opened her eyes.

And the interior of her lavishly furnished cell lay bare before her. The same as it had been the first day of her semi-voluntary capture, and the same as it had been for the past seven days. Rook sighed and rested her head against the wall she had propped herself against.

Something about spending the whole time on the bed - no matter how expensive the sheets were or how comfortable the mattress was or how soft the pillows were - rubbed Rook the wrong way. Actually, _everything_ about her situation rubbed her the wrong way.

Aside from one particular female Peggie who delivered her meals and John, no one else was allowed to see her. And John didn’t even visit every day of her seven days of capture - and even then, at odd times and not for very long. Either late at night or early in the morning or, occasionally, for a late lunch. It seemed it took a lot of work to run a cult and any free time he had he spent with her. 

They didn’t even _do_ anything except talk and eat. Rook had fears, in the beginning. An expensive bed with nice sheets and an en suite bathroom really only had a few connotations and none of them were good.

But no, John stayed away, kept the whole width of the room between them. He’d been getting closer, but there was still plenty of space. If he thought that was some comfort, he was sorely mistaken. 

John had planned it as such that Rook was entirely dependent on John for human interaction. The Peggie who delivered Rook's meal never replied. Didn't say anything. She just knocked on the door before entering the room, set the tray on the desk and knocked to get out. If this was John's attempt at using Stockholm syndrome in his favour, he was an absolute idiot because Rook wasn't going to fall for it.

She needed to leave.

**~ * ~**

Nine days after her capture, and at ten o’clock sharp, John knocked on the metal door before the wheel mechanism creaked and he walked in. The door closed behind him with an echo of finality as it always did.

Rook didn't move an inch from where she was resting, her back against the wall, her arms resting on top of her legs. John sent her a quick, tired smile as he threw himself onto the plush leather desk chair. He unbuttoned his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves.

"Tough day?" Rook asked. 

She wanted to add "torturing people" but that probably wouldn't fly too well. While John had been acting nice - suspiciously nice - the entire time, she had heard about the rages he'd fly into, and seeing as the only weapons she had were her fists, she didn't want to risk anything. Rook noticed the dark fleck on his cheekbone. The dark _red_ fleck.

"You could say that."

"You, uh, have something on your face." She motioned and John wiped it away, grimacing at the blood.

"Sorry. Work." 

"Right. _Work_."

He laughed, "You wouldn't believe the number of shirts I've gone through when I was ordained as Joseph's Baptist. It's criminal, really. I can't even wear white anymore - and silk is an utter nightmare to clean." 

"You're really sick in the head," Rook murmured.

"Maybe, but, everyone's a little twisted." He shook his head, "Anyway, forget about that. My siblings have been calling nonstop: they want to meet you. Faith especially."

"Joseph and Jacob too?"

"Joseph and Jacob too."

Rook stared at the wooden floor. She could hear John sighing softly to himself, and the creak of the leather as he arranged himself more comfortably, but her mind was somewhere else. She wanted to be somewhere else.

"What's the deal with Faith?" She asked softly, tracing the whorls and lines in the wood panels, "I don't remember you guys having a sister." 

His expression seemed to sour, "We didn't. She's... _Adopted_."

"Did you force her to join you guys too?"

He laughed, his head laid back on the chair and his eyes closed. His left leg was bouncing constantly, a sign of anxiety. But why was he anxious?

"No, we didn't show her the Path, she came of her own volition. Though, I'll admit, she isn't the first Faith we've had, but she’s certainly the most useful. The newest Faith fancies herself a bit of a chemist."

"So what, ‘Faith’ is just an honorary title?"

He hummed. John got up and moved, settling himself closer than he ever had before. Surprised, Rook could do nothing more than press herself harder against the wall. There was nowhere to run, afterall. But there was still a good two feet of space between them.

"Something like that. She's our third I believe. Or maybe the fourth. I've lost track. But she's been around the longest one."

Rook told herself not to speak. Not to say a word. She did anyway, her voice coming out quiet.

"What happened to the ones before her?"

"It turned out they weren't quite as faithful as they were supposed to be."

"John," she said, her eyes locking with his, "what happened to them?"

His eyes didn't waver, but she saw the discomfort, "Does it matter? Anyway, _like I was saying_ , they'll be coming for dinner tomorrow. Joseph's been nagging at me because I hadn't informed them earlier that you were with me. Jacob's been on my case too. Something about _testing_ you or whatever. I wouldn't be too worried - you two may not have gotten along when you were younger but Jacob has always had a soft spot for you."

Rook needed to leave, she decided, and she needed to leave _before_ the family reunion. Because if it was all four of them, she'd be trapped forever - deep in her gut, she just knew she would. They'd move her around, she felt, or maybe heighten security or cut down on what few privileges she had - or some horrible combination that she would prefer not suffering through. And if _Joseph_ , if the _Father_ , was coming along the whole bunker would be on lockdown for the foreseeable future. 

She had to get out. The sooner the better.

"Is there any way I can get a bath?"

"The en-suite is right there," John motioned over towards the discreet door to the side.

"Yeah, but I want a bath. There has to be a tub _somewhere_ in this bunker."

John frowned as he thought. His blue eyes flashed and Rook fought to keep her composure.

"There is," he said slowly, "but why exactly a bath?"

"Because my entire body is in pain, John. Sitting on a floor for hours on end isn't exactly great for your muscles."

"You could always sit on the bed-"

"I'm not going to."

"A bath?" He repeated, tone incredulous.

Rook nodded, unable to speak. Her heart thudded in her ears. This was easier than she thought.

"Fine. Do you want wine and some bath bombs to go with it?"

Rook rolled her eyes and John grinned. It seemed like he really did believe her. Good, okay, Rook could work with that. Maybe she was a bit insulted that John believed her vanity meant more to her than her own freedom, but whatever, John was a few screws short of a workbench anyway. 

"Well, since they'll be here for dinner, you've got most of the morning free. I'll have clothes sent for you to wear as well."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

He pursed his lips, as if he was trying not to laugh. John cleared his throat and tried to say, as delicately as he could, "Well, you sort of smell like a wet dog."

" _What?_ "

A grin was breaking through and he raised his hands in defence, "I'm sorry, but you do. It's why I haven't been able to get too close to you. You smell just like Jacob."

Rook got to her feet, her bones creaking and popping as they adjusted, and she loomed over him. That stupid smile didn't leave John's face.

"Okay. Get the fuck out, John."

"I'm just kidding! You smell lovely - Eleanor!"

She grabbed a pillow off of the bed and threw it his way. It hit him square in the face and only served to muffle his laughter. He apologized again but Rook just grabbed another pillow and threw that solidly against his abdomen. A breath of air escaped him and he stared at the pillows as if they were explosive.

"Are these filled with rocks?"

"Get out, John."

"You're being so unreasonable."

" _Out_."

"Fine, fine." He got to his feet, tossing the pillows back onto the bed, a crooked smile on his face, "Goodnight, Eleanor."

Rook expected him to move towards the door and rap on the metal until the Peggie guard outside opened it. That didn’t happen. Instead a troubled expression flashed behind his eyes and he remained still. He turned to look at her. Rook eyed him, curious and wary in equal measure. 

John walked towards her. Rook walked back. Until she was cornered against the wall. There were only a few inches of height difference between them, but because of John’s proximity (the closest he had been during her incarceration) she had to tilt her head back, chin tilted as she tried to look haughty and completely-not-afraid at the same time. John reached out slowly, gauging her expression, his eyes flitting from one eye to the other as his arms went around her. Rook remained impassive. If he tried anything, she’d knee him.

John closed the gap between them and hugged her tight, enveloping her with his body and the subtle smell of his _very_ nice - and most definitely expensive - cologne, burying his face into the junction between her neck and shoulder.

They stood there for an eternity. Rook was rooted to the spot, her arms against her side as John clutched onto her, and she could remember hazy moments in her past when he would barrel straight into her and hold onto her with the same level of desperation. Her heart throbbed and she shifted her arms free and she wrapped them around John. He shuddered and held on impossibly tighter, until the pressure bordered on painful. He was still so skinny but surprisingly strong. He was still her John.

“I missed you so much, Eleanor,” He mumbled into her shoulder, grasping onto her as if she’d disappear if he let go.

“I missed you too.”

Rook rubbed his back, the way she used to when he was upset and wailing because something awful had happened.

“I don’t want you to leave me again.”

Rook stopped.

“I’m not going to leave again.”

“You never did keep your promises.”

“I kept some of them.”

He untangled their limbs and moved back a few inches. Rook was starting to half remember a lot of expressions from John’s youth. The face he’d make when he was happy, sad, excited, angry, jealous - and this kicked puppy look she had seen a lot. And it somehow still managed to tug at her heartstrings the same as it had years ago.

“Which would that be?”

“Even though you’ve gone bat-shit crazy and have me trapped down here in this bunker with you and you’ve set your men on my ass, we’re still friends, John.”

“I’m not bat-shit crazy,” he groused, eyebrows furrowing, “I’ve just seen the truth and if-”

Rook reached up and put her hand on his mouth, silencing him.

“I’m not in the mood for another spiel, John. I’m sure Joseph will lecture me enough when we meet tomorrow. It’s getting late, you have to sleep, I have to sleep and I’m sure you’re sick of having to smell a wet dog.”

John said something against her palm and she moved her hand.

“What?” 

“I _said_ , you’re the nicest smelling wet dog I’ve ever had the pleasure of, uh, smelling?”

“Smooth. Real smooth, John.”

“Thank you.”

Rook shook her head.

“Just get out already.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo it was both really hard and very fun to write this because I want John-Deputy moments but like, I also don't want them?
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	4. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the sudden absence, I was stuck with a ton of end of semester papers that I only just finished. To make up for it, we're going to have a double post.
> 
> Enjoy!

Rook woke to a loud knock on the reinforced metal door. The wheel mechanism squeaked and the Peggie who delivered her breakfast walked in. A quick glance at the mute clock told Rook it was eight in the morning. The Peggie slid the breakfast try onto the desk and slapped a letter next to it before moving back out. As usual, she pretended that Rook didn’t exist.

Which was fine by Rook, after over a week of it, she was used to it. It wasn’t like she could blame the Peggie either - maybe Rook had killed someone important to her. There had been a lot of death on both sides, after all.

Rook slid out from beneath the comfortable silk sheets and padded over to the desk. On the tray was a bowl of porridge, a smaller bowl containing an assortment of fruits and a glass of water. Rook popped a blueberry into her mouth and picked up the letter, turning it over. It was a proper, white, legal envelope emblazoned with the cult’s logo in the corner where the stamp should have been. And in pretty, swooping, cursive writing was her name. Her _actual_ name.

It was obviously from John. No one else in the compound referred to her as anything other than “the Sinner” or “Deputy”. Rook tore open the envelope with little care, popped another berry into her mouth and settled on top of the desk to read through it. 

_Eleanor,_ it began, _I’m afraid I won’t be able to have breakfast with you, I’ve been up since dawn sorting things out for the Father’s arrival. After your insistence last night, I’ve arranged for you to have a bath after you’ve eaten, just knock on the door and the guards will know. Since this is going to be your first formal meeting with the Father, I’ve taken the liberty to arrange suitable clothing for you too. I don’t know when I’ll be free but I will arrive shortly before dinner to escort you. Yours, John._

Rook set the letter aside, sufficiently queasy. It felt like some awful parody of a love letter. She gazed around the room she was trapped inside. It was the nicest place she’d ever stayed at - albeit against her will. John’s plot had been obvious from the very start but it somehow sat worse now that he was being more obvious about it.

The overwhelming urge to escape that had taken root the previous night rose to the surface again and roiled in the pit of her belly - an uncomfortable storm brewing as lightning zapped through her nerves. Rook looked at the bowl of porridge and found she couldn’t dredge up the will to eat the sloppy, milky substance. She grabbed the bowl of fruit and began to pace, munching away as her mind whirred. 

She finished her fruits and set the plain porcelain bowl down onto the desk and moved to chug the water. Who knew when she’d get to eat or drink anything clean next. Water especially was an issue with all the Bliss the cult had contaminated it with. Steeling her spine, Rook walked up to the door and rapped on it once. 

There was a beat of silence and then the shuffling sounds of someone moving away. She grabbed the empty glass and set it against the door, trying to catch the snippets of muffled conversation.

“- John’s orders.”

“Fuck her bath.”

“Take it up with John.”

“Fine. Grab the handcuffs.”

“John said not to hurt her.”

The other person mumbled something too low for Rook to catch. She did notice the boot echoes were drawing closer and she moved to set the glass back onto the desk and pretend like she wasn’t eavesdropping. There was a sharp knock on her door and the wheel squeaked as the lock turned. The door swung open and two female Peggies strode in, a blonde one with a pair of handcuffs in hand, and a brunette with a scar on her face pointing a pistol at Rook’s head.

“I won’t cause any trouble,” Rook said, bringing her hands out slowly in front of her.

“You sure as fuck better not,” The one with the pistol said.

“John’s made it pretty clear you aren’t allowed to hurt me,” Rook said, wincing when the handcuff bit into her skin, “So you can put your gun away.”

“ _John_ may be giving you special treatment, but even he won’t abide with insubordination. Shut the fuck up before I shoot you in “self-defense”.”

The blonde Peggie secured the handcuffs even tighter and nudged her head towards the door. The Peggie with the gun smacked the door once and it squeaked open. The degree of precaution they took always surprised Rook - and spoke quite openly of John’s opinion of her. 

The blonde Peggie put her hand on Rook’s shoulder and began to direct her along the endless steel labyrinthine hallways of John’s bunker. The only thing to detract from the plain, grey monotony were crates with the Peggie emblem, metal shelving screwed to the walls and occasionally other Peggies, sneering at Rook like she was some pest. Her replying smiles only seemed to infuriate them more - so Rook kept it up until her face hurt.

They walked forever, trudging up and down staircases, taking so many left turns and right turns and more than once backtracking so that Rook’s head was spun by the end of it and she was disoriented beyond belief. It was another ploy - either John’s or her guards’ - and it was working. She was well and truly lost. 

Finally, somewhere in the pit of Rook’s belly, she knew they were drawing close. The number of stray Peggies had decreased. The number of stray crates and shelving too. 

“Am I going to be uncuffed when we get close to the bath?”

“Nope,” The blonde Peggie replied.

“How am I supposed to take a bath then?”

The one with the gun snorted from beside her, “Not our fucking problem.”

Rook had to work fast. 

She spotted a crate a few feet ahead and laying on top of it was a plumbing pipe. A long, sturdy looking cylinder of pure metal. The Peggie with the gun was going down first.

They stepped towards the crate. Rook’s hands shot out and her leg kicked back. The blonde Peggie loosened her grip, a scream escaping her throat. Rook’s hands wrapped around the pipe and she used her momentum to swing wildly around. A sickening, wet crunch sounded and the scarred Peggie fell to the floor, groaning as she reached her hands up to cradle the side of her face. The blonde Peggie recovered and dropped down to grab the gun. Without missing a beat, Rook swung again and caught the blonde Peggie in the back of the head. She fell on top of her friend, knocked out cold. 

Rook stood there, panting hard as the adrenaline burned. The pipe was a bit bloody, but she knew it was about to get worse. Dropping down to her knees, she awkwardly pawed through their pockets until she got the handcuff keys and worked quickly to free herself. There was no telling if there were cameras in the hallway, and if there were, and Rook was caught, it would be the end for her.

Her wrists freed, she picked up the pipe, pocketed the pistol and moved. Where she could, Rook hid away and let the unsuspecting Peggies pass. No alarms had been raised and if she could escape stealthily, all the better. Where she couldn’t, Rook’s new, metal friend, came in handy.

Navigating the windy twists and turns and staircases of John’s bunker was a nightmare - all the walls seemed to be the same and all of those similar walls seemed to be closing in on her. If Rook was even a little claustrophobic, she knew the situation would have been so much worse.

Her muscles burned and her head throbbed and the metal pole was bent and bloody by the time she finally found her way back towards the surface. A pile of unconscious (and in two cases, when she found a bundle of throwing knives, dead) Peggies littered the hallways behind her. Rook stood in front of the wheel that would unlock the main bunker door and she took a moment to just breathe. 

If she left the bunker, there was no telling how John and his siblings would react. They’d pretended so far that they cared, that Rook meant something to them. Their friendship happened decades ago, but still, Rook somehow felt like it would hurt if they decided to turn on her - drop the facade they had been keeping up and bare their teeth.

The Deputy didn’t think twice. Her muscles strained as she turned the unoiled wheel, the hinges letting out an awful creaking noise that had her gritting her teeth.

“The Deout has escaped!” A Peggie screamed over the bunker’s intercom system, “Find her and bring her at - ack!”

Static sounded and Rook let out a puff of breath, throwing her full weight behind the slow turn of the wheel. 

“Eleanor, return to your room this instant!”

John. Rook strained even harder, panting as she got the wheel to finally move.

“Eleanor, I can see you on the cameras, return to your room right now and we can forget all about this.”

The mechanism screeched and Rook screamed and she threw the door open. Two Peggies had their guns aimed at her, fingers on triggers, peering down the barrel aimed at her heart.

“Stop!” John barked, “Do not shoot!” 

The Peggies halted, staring, confused, at the intercom box lodged in the far wall.

“Apprehend her peacefully, do not-”

Rook used their moment of hesitation to throw the pole straight at the Peggie closest to her. It collided with his skill and his body fell. Like a puppet with its strings cut. 

The other Peggie opened fire. Bullets tore into the concrete behind her. A bullet grazed her leg, another hit her into the arm. Rook screamed again.

“I said don’t _fucking_ shoot!”

Rook groped for her pistol and shot back. The first bullet missed, the second one lodged in the Peggie’s shoulder and the third found his heart. The Peggie went down like a sack of potatoes, blood blooming around his abdomen as he choked, pooling in the concrete around him.

Rook moved.

“Eleanor stop, just - retrieve the Deputy but do _not_ harm her! I repeat: do not _fucking_ touch her!”

Rook burst past the metal link fence and pounded down the snaking, dirt path. Her breath came out harsh and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She could hear the screams and calls of the Peggies as they gave chase, the whir of a helicopter’s blades as it was raised into the sky.

“Use every last resource to bring her back but do not hurt her!” John’s voice was faint the further Rook got, “She is to be returned safely!”

“Go, go, go!” A Peggie called.

The growl of quad bikes sounded behind her and Rook forced her legs to move fast. She sprinted down underneath the bridge. Why was she always running? Her arm and leg throbbed. And why was she always hurt?

“She’s down there!” Another one yelled.

They were getting closer. The roar of the quad bike’s tires raised the hair on the back of Rook’s neck. Rook gasped as she realised what lay ahead and came to a rough stop.

The quad bikes halted behind her and she half turned to see two bikes with four Peggies in total baring down at her, the two on the back of the bikes pointing their guns at her.

Straight ahead was the edge of a cliff. Right behind her was certain incarceration and no hope for parole. Rook didn’t have her parachute. But she did have her squirrel suit.

“Deputy,” John’s voice crackled from one of the Peggie’s walkie talkies, “just give up the chase. Come on, you’ve got nowhere left to run.” There was almost an edge of desperation in his voice, “Eleanor, _please_ just come back. I swear, everything will be alright. I won’t hurt you, no one will hurt you, it’ll be okay, I _promise_.”

Rook stood at the edge, breathing hard, and stared down into the ravine. Trees and sharp rocks stared back, and in the distance, a body of water twinkled. She took a step back. And then another.

“Good, that’s it,” She didn’t know how John could see what she was doing, but she could hear the strain, “Just a few more steps and that’s it. We can do it your way, okay? I promise I won’t lock you away. I’ll do better - I-”

Rook stopped, halfway towards the quad bikes, halfway from the cliff. If she aimed just right, she could soften her landing and avoid breaking too many bones. 

“Eleanor? Why did you stop?” There was real panic in his voice, “Eleanor, please don’t -”

She ran.

“Get away from the edge! Stop her - someone stop her! Don’t let her-!”

At the last second, she pushed off of the edge. Shouts erupted. Rook fell.

“Eleanor!”

Rook pushed the button to open her squirrel suit wings and immediately picked up the wind. Her falling became gliding. The wind hissed as it whipped her hair free of their confinces and stung her eyes. Rook squinted through it, trying her damndest to keep an eye on where she was headed. She’d lost a bit of air, but if her calculations were correct, she’d be able to slip into a comfortable landing in the water. Too bad maths had never been her best subject and her calculations were possibly flawed.

Sounds reached her ears distorted and muffled. John’s voice was among the throng but his words were far too disrupted to make out. Rook veered sharply to the left, narrowly avoiding a tree and hurried to right herself before she smacked into another one. She made a mental note that, if she survived, she had to throw herself off of cliffs more. The exhilaration was maddening. Sharky and Hurk would probably enjoy the hell out of it too. They could make it a bonding thing.

The body of water was coming up. Rook brought her arms closer, aiming down towards the water. She realised only as the wind began to very seriously hurt, that she had too much speed. She was going to hit the surface too fast. She was going to-

Water exploded all around her. A solid wall of weight smacking into her front until the air was forcefully ripped from her lungs and for a terrifying moment, she was immobile as she sunk. And then her brain kicked into overdrive. Her nerves were on fire and all her senses were screaming.

Rook’s arms and legs flailed and her lungs burned red hot. She got her limbs under control and clawed her way to the surface of the lack. The Deputy broke through and gasped for air. Water sloshed into her mouth and nose, burning their way down and she hacked, coughing hard as she forced her limbs to cooperate until she was swimming and coughing towards the rocky bank.

Rook grasped onto a jutting boulder and held onto it for dear life. Another round of bone-shaking, nausea inducing coughs escaped her. Her stomach heaved but she somehow kept her breakfast down. Rook moved so she was laying with her back awkwardly against the rock, her hand still acting as an anchor. Her eyes stung and her ears rang and her lungs heaved but she was alive. 

A white Peggie plane flew overhead but didn’t spot her.

Rook was free; for now. But she wouldn’t be if she stayed still for too long. With a cough and a hiss, she pulled herself out of the water, dragged down by the full weight of her dripping clothes and watery lungs, and crawled through the forest. Hopefully she wouldn’t get mauled by any cougars.

**~ * ~**

The purloined quad bike choked to a dead halt, empty of gas and full of bullet holes. Same as Rook.

Miraculously though, none of the newer bullets had hit Rook - but she knew it wasn’t only luck that played a part. She sighed and hunched over in her seat, the exhaustion and near death and adrenaline and blood loss was finally getting to her. The four hour bike ride through heavy Peggie country had been nerve-wracking as is, her lack of weapons or method of communication made it even worse. John had confiscated her travel bag, her weapons and even her walkie talkie and she hadn’t been able to locate it - hadn’t even tried to - during the mad rush of her escape.

Groaning aloud, she realised numbly that she’d have to buy all her weapons again. And even the fishing magazines - the ones she had been saving for a lull in the ongoing dispute to enjoy.

Rook stayed like that, hunched awkwardly, her forehead pressed against the handlebar of the quad, her hand clutching at her clotted bullet wound on her arm, and allowed the forest sounds to filter through her mind. The chirping of the birds, the rustling of the trees, the distant call of deer. It was such a jarring change from the screaming and gunfire and loud roar of the quad’s engine, Rook could almost imagine hearing it again.

“Heya, El, listen, sorry I haven’t been around for a bit, but, uh, stuff’s kinda serious here.”

Rook jerked at Sharky Boshaw’s voice and turned in her seat. Several feet away, in the clearing near Dutch’s bunker entrance, Sharky was sitting with his back to her on a rock, holding a walkie talkie. He had his green cap crumpled up in one hand and his hair was in absolute disarray, as if he’d been running his hands through it constantly. Rook couldn’t hear any of the reply - it was too staticy and garbled, but she could hear Sharky just fine.

So, numb-minded as she was from exhaustion, she lifted her uninjured leg and sat sideways on the bike, her hands resting on her lap, and settled herself down to quietly listen and watch.

“The Deputy - you remember, I told you about her - well, John’s got her. Yeah, John Seed. I know. She risked herself for Peaches and me, El. Yeah, Peaches the cougar. Yup, from the taxidermy place. Yeah. Yeah, I mean she hasn’t eaten me _yet_ , so that’s good? Anyway, the reason I called was to let you know that until I can get the Deputy back, I won’t be able to hang out with you or the kids. Yeah, I know. I’m gonna miss you guys a ton too, but I gotta do this, you know I do. Yeah. yeah, I will - I _will_ , when am I not safe? Okay, except for that one time. Okay, fine and that one. Alright, alright, I hear you. I love you, El. You and the kids, I love all of you so much. I’ll come back, don’t worry. Tell them that I’m off to save the world.”

Kids? Rook blinked. _Sharky_ had _kids_?

The radio crackled and he set it beside himself on the rock. He dropped his face into his hands and scrubbed at his hair. Rook watched - surprise bleeding through the numbness - this other side of Sharky Boshaw. He moved his head and looked up at the bright, blue, afternoon sky.

“Hey, uh, Mr Monkey King, uh, sir. I dunno if you’re really up there or if Hurky’s just messin’ with me again. But if you are like, please, help a brother out: I need to save the Deputy, man. She’s all any of us have right now. And, I mean, we don’t even know each other too well, but I feel like we’d be amazing friends, man. She threw herself right into Peggie hands just to keep me and Peaches safe and no one has ever done that for me. So please help me bring her back safe too. Er, and yeah. That’s, uh, that’s it. Thanks? I think?”

“No need to bring me back, Sharky, I’m right here.”

Sharky fell back, landing hard on the rocks and grass. Rook winced. He let out a low groan before righting himself, crouching down on the ground, dirt sticking to his clothes and the side of his face. Sharky lifted his head and saw Rook, sitting on her dead quad bike. His brows furrowed as he stared at her. And then his brows rose and eyes widened and his mouth dropped to the ground.

Tired as she was, Rook was easily able to read the transition of his emotions. The confusion to the shock to the excitement. Sharky was an open book and Rook liked that about him.

“Po-po!”

He scrambled to his feet and ran at her, throwing his arms around her and forcing her into a bear hug. The quad bike rocked from the force and Rook hissed as her injured arm got caught between them awkwardly.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” he repeated loudly right into her ear, squeezing until her bones squeaked, “Oh my God, it really is you, Dep!”

He pulled away to get a good look at her before bringing her back in for another bone-crushing hug. Rook choked out a noise between a laugh and a groan and patted him on the back. He was just as clingy as John. The thought sobered her.

“Alright, alright, let go, Sharky, my arm’s hurt.”

Sharky let go instantly and moved away, his eyes fixed on hers and wide with childlike wonder.

“How’d you get out?”

“You have kids?” She shot back, cradling her aching arm closer to herself.

“My question first!”

“No, mine. Whose “El”?”

“Ugh, fine. Lora’s my little sister and the ‘kids’ are her kids. Her husband’s out of the County - lucky bastard. He works in Phoenix right now as like, one of those guys in the booth during basketball games who pushes a button to change a camera angle or whatever. Lora had a bakery before the cult rolled into town. Made the best fuckin’ cookies ever - hand on heart. Anyway, I help her look after her kids when she needs a break or they start missing their dad.” He shrugged it off and held onto her shoulders, giving her a light shake, “Your turn now: how’d you get out?” 

Rook took a moment to process what she’d just heard. Never once, during their impromptu “road trip” had Sharky brought up the fact that he had family living in the County, aside from the Drubman’s. Then again, most of their conversations were frightfully inane and not worth remembering. 

“I found a moment where I wasn’t guarded too well and made my escape. I jumped off a cliff, crawled through a forest, _borrowed_ a quad bike and drove the whole way here with quite a few Peggies on my ass. But,” she patted the hot front of the quad, “this thing isn’t going to be much use anymore.”

Sharky looked at the numerous bullet holes that peppered the vehicle and whistled.

“Damn. And none of those bullets hit you?”

Rook shrugged, “Call it a miracle?”

“Jeez, Dep. When Peaches and I had to run, I can’t tell you how worried I was that I’d never see you again." His face fell as he recalled those tense few second, "I met up with Hurk and Dutch and the old man just kept saying that we should wait and that you’d pull through one way or another. But I couldn’t let you sit in John’s BDSM bunker for longer than you already had. I was planning on leaving today with Hurky to rescue you, but," his eyes twinkled, "you really did pull through.”

Rook put her hand on his arm and squeezed. Sharky smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thanks, Sharky.” She let her hand drop, “And don’t worry John didn’t touch me and I managed to escape unharmed.” Mostly. “But again, thanks. It means a lot to me - it really, honestly does, to know that you’ve got my back. You and Hurk.”

Sharky rubbed the back of his neck, a goofy grin alighting on his face as he went red underneath the praise.

“Shucks, Dep, I told you plenty of times: ride or die.”

Shaking her head, a small smile of her own, Rook turned towards the bunker, “Is Dutch inside?”

“Yup. Hurk and Peaches too." His expression brightened comically, "Oh man! We have _got_ to celebrate you bustin’ out, dude! Poor Peaches’ been moping around like some depressed house cat. Weirdest shit I’ve ever seen. She wouldn’t even tear up the furniture or piss everywhere - even Dutch was getting worried.”

Rook laughed tiredly as she led the way down into Dutch’s bunker, a familiar warmth filling her to her core - the sort of mental peace that settles when you return home.

“I’m back now, so everything is going to be fine.”

**~ * ~**

Everything was not fine.

Eleanor’s head pounded heavily and she groaned out. The world swayed blearily before her, each lurched step she took made the world sway further. She let out another pitiful noise and stumbled out of Dutch’s bunker, desperate for fresh air.

After a few hours of celebratory heavy drinking courtesy of Hurk’s secret stash and Dutch’s canned "food", Eleanor was left with a splitting headache, a muddled mind, and a stomach eager to revolt. Her hands slammed against the dirt ground and she groaned, a wave of nausea licking up her spine, chilling her veins and shaking her bones. Eleanor forced control and crawled out of the bunker entryway.

It was still night, the stars blinking across the dark canvas of the sky. The moon hung, waxing away and reminding Eleanor of the time she had lost. She closed her eyes and rolled onto her back, arms spread-eagle in the grassy open space by Dutch’s bunker door. Sharky’s screaming and snippets of Hurk’s excited conversation drifted through the open door. 

Dutch had been knocked out when Eleanor had desperately called for a break. She could normally hold her own when it came to drinking, but there was something about Hurk’s bootleg liquor that just didn’t taste quite right.

In the fuzzy realm of her mind, Eleanor could almost imagine she was a college kid again, getting drunk at a party and stepping outside to sober up before she returned to her dorm room. Business majors knew how to party - and some of them had family connections, and they knew how to party _hard_. A dopey smile slid onto her face as she recalled her youth. She had had fun back then - even with the countless deadlines and mounting stress. What ever happened to her college friends?

A crackle sounded. 

“It’s fairly late to be out stargazing, or maybe it's actually the perfect time.”

It took Eleanor’s hazy mind to register it was from the walkie talkie attached to her hip. Dutch had given it to her for a reason she couldn’t recall. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp as she raised the walkie talkie to her face and pushed the button. Nothing happened. She realised she’d pushed the wrong buttons and proceeded to push the right one.

“Hello?” she called down the line, eyes fixed on the Big Dipper. It had been her father’s favourite. Eleanor had always preferred the Little Dipper. 

“Hello, Eleanor.”

The static voice over the line was familiar and it took Eleanor a moment to realise why.

“Joseph!” she grinned down the line, “Joseph Seed - is that you? Gosh it’s been ages. I met John a few days back - but he’s really weird. Actually, all of you are really weird now.”

“Are you… drunk right now, Eleanor?”

“I had a little bit to drink,” she admitted, “We were partying! Hey, how are you even calling? I thought Dutch’s Island didn’t allow radio signals in.”

Dutch had gone on non-stop about his ‘advanced’ communications tech. So advanced Eleanor had to climb up the towers herself to fix them.

“It’s due to the proximity, though I can’t claim I’m an expert on any of this. Are you alright, Eleanor? John said you got hurt during your… escape.”

Escape? Right, her escape from John’s clutches. That was why they had been celebrating. _Damn_ what did Hurk put in those drinks? Eleanor pushed herself up and hunched forward, fingers running through some leaves as she looked around, a sliver of suspicion wiggly through the haze in her mind. Though she wasn’t able to pin down why.

“Uhh, I’m okay. A few scrapes and bruises, nothing Dutch couldn’t patch up.” Her wounded arm throbbed in reminder. Eleanor was starting to regain her senses and kept that quiet. “Wait, why does it matter?” 

Joseph sounded almost amused, “Because I care for your well being. And don’t worry, John has been properly punished for what he did.It was wrong of him to hold you against your will and he understands that now. It won't happen again.”

“Punished how?”

“He atoned for his sins. Well, I’ll let you get back to your party - though, I’d advise you stop drinking here and sleep it off - hangover headaches are no joke.”

A thought crossed her increasingly sobering brain, “How did you know I was star-gazing?”

“Sleep well," he said, ignoring her question, "Eleanor. I’m looking forward to the day you join us.”

Rook opened her mouth. The line crackled off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you thought!


	5. Regroup, Rethink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this all down in the span of a few hours and it really shows  
> This isn't my best chapter and I admit it  
> I hope you enjoy regardless

Rook spent the first two days after her return from John’s bunker roaming Dutch’s island and relaxing. She had earned it, she told herself and Dutch whenever he raised a hairless brow her way. Sharky and Hurk had gone home during those first two days and she spent them with Peaches. Peaches made a good listening companion - she never interrupted and never judged Rook. She was also the only one who knew what really happened inside the bunker.

During those two days, Rook had confided in Peaches, staring into the cougar’s mismatched eyes and laying her heart and soul out in front of the wild cat. She didn’t cast Rook away for having been friends with the deranged lunatics that were terrorising the county. Peaches didn’t do much at all. 

She couldn’t comfort Rook when she told the cat about her fears, she couldn’t console Rook when she admitted that she was lost on where to go forward, couldn’t do a thing when Rook told her how she had lost the fight she had had in the start. Peaches couldn’t help Rook how she needed her to, but the big cat saw Rook was hurt and offered headbutts and purred growls of support. It was a lot for a cat, but it wasn’t enough.

When Sharky and Hurk returned, Rook pretended like her injury hurt a lot more than it did, forcing them to hunker down with Dutch in his bunker for an extra two days. Dutch hadn’t bought any of it and made sure Rook knew with each sideways glance and lingering gaze.

He had personally bandaged Rook up, had been the one to tell her that they weren’t removing the bullet lodged into her arm because it wasn’t in danger of hurting any major organ and pulling bullets out of injuries needlessly was just bullshit they did for movies and resulted in more harm than good.

He knew it was a farce but he let her get away with it for a full week and then he put his foot down.

He cornered her in the sleeping area where she had taken residence on the top-most bunk and where she learnt she _never_ wanted to bunk with Hurk or Sharky ever again. Rook was stretched out, Peaches laying across her and effectively caging her against the bed as she glanced through a hardback book.

Dutch's expression only seemed to darken when he saw her. He crossed his arms and leaned against the archway, his glasses flashing in the white fluorescent lights. 

"If you're done moping around, Fall's End really needs your help, Deputy."

"I'm not moping." Rook flipped the page of the book.

She had grabbed it off of the shelf in the weapons room. It was a book about gun maintenance. Rook was so bored by it she wasn't even looking at the pictures properly anymore. And with Dutch's glower aimed her way, she would have been too distracted even if the book wasn't dry as a bone. At least it acted as a good deterrent against the full force of Dutch's ire.

"You spent the last two days fishin' with Boshaw and Drubman Junior."

"What does that have to do with moping?"

"Because I know how intelligent Boshaw's conversations can be. Drubman's too. And if someone even with an IQ in the single digits is willing to hang out with them, it means they're moping. And you, Deputy, are no brain-dead idiot."

Rook lowered her book and shot him a cross look, "Has anyone told you you're really mean? Hurk and Sharky are great guys and they're nice and funny and sweet."

"Then fuckin' _marry_ them," he grunted, taking a step forward, "Look, I don't know what happened inside that bunker, Deputy, and I can't claim to understand what you went through. You won't tell any of us and I respect that, even if I don't agree with it. But there are people out there, kid, who need your help. Who are going through what you did," Rook doubted _that_ , "or worse. And the only one who can save them - who can save _everyone_ is you."

Rook's fingers curled around the book and she slammed it shut. Peaches raised her head and stared at her, her ear flicking. Rook ignored the hundred plus pound cat sprawled across her legs and focused her frustration at Dutch.

"Why me?" She demanded.

"What?"

"Why me? What makes me so special that I'm the "only one" who can save everyone?"

"Are you being serious right now, kid?"

"Don't "kid" me, Dutch. What's so special about me? There are faster, stronger, smarter people out in this county who can turn the tide of this whole mess. You said there was a whole _Militia_ against them. What makes me so great?"

"Because for whatever messed up reason, those Seed fuckers think you're special. And so long as they think you're special, they won't hurt you. And having an enemy you can't hurt, greatly reduces your chance of winning. The reason you're so special, Deputy, is because you managed to escape John's bunker and didn't die."

"People have escaped before," Rook hissed.

Peaches got up, a worried rumble escaping her chest. Their aggressive tones were worrying the mountain lion and she cast wary glances Dutch's way. 

Dutch's voice softened then even as his tone remained firm, he lost the fire but not the fight, "And then they're hunted down, Deputy, and killed. No one escapes the cult forever. They make sure of it."

"So I'm the only one who can do it, not because I'm qualified, but because I'm useful." 

The words tasted wrong on her tongue.

"Which is why you need a team, kid. You can't fight alone. You can't. No one knows how those whack jobs running the cult think and we don't know how long they'll think you're special. Gather people behind you, build a cause worth fighting for. Get a team, Rook. You need it."

"I didn't want any of this."

It was a quiet admission and a moment of absolute weakness, Rook understood that. People were dying, they were being tortured and she was hiding away like a coward complaining because things were too hard. She knew that. But knowing didn't make it easier for her. 

The hard lines on Dutch's weathered face smoothed and he seemed forlorn for a moment as he looked away. 

"None of us did," he said a moment later, "but we don't have a choice anymore."

"I don't know if I can do this."

"Like I said: we don't have a choice."

**~ * ~**

“Kid, there’s something you have to see.”

Rook looked up from the gun she was polishing. Dutch’s words from hours before had hit her hard and she found herself unable to stare at the book for any longer. Eager to do something, she had gone into the weapons room and pretended like she was preparing. No one would believe it, but perhaps she could fool herself.

“What is it?”

“Come on.”

She set the gun and oil rag down and moved to follow after him. Dutch led her into his control room. The screens of the various TVs flickered and waved. The low hum of the radio static and the screeching of his metal music acted as the background music that Rook was beginning to associate with the room. She glanced at the map of the Hope County tacked on the wall, at the photos of Jacob, Joseph, John and Faith. Of the notes Dutch had carefully penned underneath all of them. Her eyes met those of the brothers and she turned away, unable to bear their weight, even through a photograph.

“Well?” she asked, clearing her throat and moving around to fiddle with the nicknacks he had laying around. 

She grabbed a throwing knife off of the scuffed coffee table and twirled it in her fingers. It was a trick Hurk had shown her and she had been practicing here and there.

“Your friend is alive.”

“Which friend?”

Her eyes darted to the photographs and then back to Dutch. Did he somehow find out? If he did, what did he think of their situation? That Rook was friends with the very people that had ruined his life and the lives of so many others. Why did Rook care?

“Deputy Hudson.”

His expression was grim which didn’t seem right. If Hudson was alive, that was a _good_ thing. Right?

“Where is she?” Rook kept the rising unease out of her voice. Dutch’s eyes darkened and he moved away from the screens. She hadn’t realised he had been trying to hide one of them.

Rook’s eyes zeroed in on the screen, on the grainy image of Joey Hudson, tied to a chair, beaten and bleeding, her mouth taped up. And John right behind her.

The knife clattered to the floor.

A rush of air escaped her and she staggered forward, grasping at the edge of the table, pushing her face until her nose almost touched the screen.

“When-” the words didn’t come out and Rook just stared as Hudson cried, tears tracking down her swollen cheek. 

They were in a dark, nondescript room, Hudson was bowing her head down in defeat and John was looming menacingly behind her, his hands on her shoulder as he spoke wordlessly. The white cotton of a bandage peaked from beneath his shirt collar.

“We have to assume this whole time. Even while you were captured. This has been going on since yesterday.”

Rook was in the same place as Hudson and she could have busted her out? Could have saved her before John did _this_ to her?

“What’s he saying?”

Dutch moved quietly to her side and fiddled with a dial. The volume rose and John’s voice floated by, interspersed with Joey’s muffled sobs. 

“- Deputy Hudson refused to be cleansed of her sins.”

She watched on in horror as John circled around and a pair of Peggies rolled Joey away. John clasped his hands, his blue eyes shining. 

“But the Deputy will Atone. She will be Cleansed. And she will join us in Eden.” His eyes bored into her soul. “This is the will of the Father.”

The video cut to black and then restarted, Joey was strapped to the chair again, arms bound and her wrists red. The mascara and blood was smeared on her cheeks. Her eyes were blood-shot and sightless as she slowly seemed to wake from unconsciousness. John walked in and stood behind her and spoke but Rook had heard enough.

Her knees shook and her arms trembled. Her eyes fell to the table and the papers scattered across it.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“What?”

Dutch turned the volume down and Rook was thankful for it.

“You said it’s been playing since yesterday, why didn’t you tell me?”

“On the off-chance you really were hurt, I didn’t want to make it worse.”

It sounded like a weak excuse even to her.

“I thought I was the “special one”, Dutch. I thought it didn’t matter if I was hurt or not because other people needed me.”

“I didn’t know how to bring this up-”

Rook whirled away from the desk and glared at him. They were about the same height but she wished she had a few inches on him. 

“Joey has been stuck with John - has been _tortured_ by John - and you didn’t tell me because it was _awkward_?”

“You won’t tell us what happened in the bunker, Rook, I thought it was something that had broken your spirit and I didn’t want to-”

“Who gives a _fuck_ about that?”

“Is everything okay?” Hurk called from the kitchen.

“No!” Rook yelled back just a Dutch said, “Yes.”

She turned on him again. Dutch seemed to be losing his patience. His face was red and sweat beaded on his temple. Rook was hot with anger, the blood pounding in her veins the same way it did when she was high off of a kill.

“How could you keep this from me?”

“Because when it’s about other people, you hid away in my fucking bunker like a coward! How was I supposed to know you’d only grow a spine when it was about people you cared about?”

“That’s not true! I care about the people in the county, it’s my _job_ to care-”

“Bull. Shit.” Dutch hissed between his teeth, “If you gave even a flying fuck about them, you wouldn’t have wasted a week lazing around like some spineless prick! But no, you’re going to stay away from the hard things, aren’t you?”

Rook recoiled.

“Shut up-”

“Real people are dying, Eleanor! This is _not_ a game!”

“I know!” She pushed the loose hair out of her face, “I _know_ that! I _know_ I’m being a coward, Dutch. I know it and I can’t do anything about it! I’m so scared - I don’t want to die for absolute _strangers_ \- I-”

A shuddered breath escaped her and she lost the fight. Her muscles trembled and she leaned against the table, overcome with exhaustion. She scrubbed at her face, her hands cold but her face warm.

“I’m supposed to save this county but I’m not good enough. You want me to be a leader but I don’t know if I can. I escaped John’s bunker, sure, but I got hurt doing it. And that was _with_ orders not to hurt me. What if next time, instead of a bullet to the arm, the Peggies decide they don’t care and shoot me in the head?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Deputy. Death is a risk of the job. And it is your job to protect these people. Rook, look just - stop for a second, okay? I know it’s really hard right now, I _know_ and I know you’re scared.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, “Your friend, Hudson, and maybe the rest of your crew, are alive and in the hands of the cult. We are _going_ to do this - we _have_ to do this. It’s the only way we’re going to save them.”

Rook shut her eyes and bowed her head. Dutch patted her once, awkwardly, and moved away.

“I’ll make a list of people that I know will help you tomorrow. Sharky, Hurk and Peaches are good, but they’re still just two idiots and a house cat on steroids when you need more. So just 0 try to rest up for now, get your head in order, and tomorrow we can build an army.”

“I’m leaving right now.”

“It’s ten at night, Rook, just leave in the morn-”

“If I wait any longer, John could kill Hudson.” She grimaced, “Or worse.”

“You won’t be able to save her right now and you know it.”

“I can’t sit around and do nothing.”

Dutch opened his mouth to argue but then closed it and shook his head.

“Fine. Take a gun from the weapon’s room and meet me here. I’ll go tell Sharky and Hurk to get ready.”

Rook sent him a look but Dutch was already moving. Reluctantly, Rook pushed away from her perch and headed towards the weapon room. Dutch’s voice, quiet but firm, came from the kitchen as he filled Sharky and Hurk in on the plan. She set her sights on the rows of guns before her and then down at the black pistol she had been cleaning. 

It was the first gun she had used when Dutch had saved her. Before she had learnt the horrible truth about the cult leaders. It seemed ages ago when all she had to do was run around and cause chaos without dying. She hadn’t been as fearful then as she was now. It must have been the perpetual exhaustion. Or the near constant adrenaline.

Rook picked the gun off of the table. It weighed the same, felt the same. No express emotion flooded through her. She holstered the gun and went to grab a black travel bag. The noise from the kitchen had stopped. Rook started to pack extra magazines and bullets for their travels as well as a pair of throwing knives and a frag grenade. Rook would need it more.

Her travel bag wasn’t as well stocked as it once had been, but it would be enough for a start. Besides, she had Hurk, Sharky and Peaches. 

Hoisting the bag higher on her shoulder, Rook returned to the comms room to find Sharky and Hurk sprawled on the sofas, drinking chilled beers.

“One for the road,” Hurk explained when Rook raised a brow in silent question.

“Where’s Peaches?”

“She went out hunting, she’ll catch up to you, don’t worry.”

Rook turned to see Dutch walking in, counting a small stack of money. He finished and looked up. His hairless brows were creased and a grim frown was etched into his face. Dutch was a grumpy old man by all accounts and from the papers Rook had found littered around the bunker, he also had a few screws loose, but he was also a friend and someone Rook found she cared about.

“Here,” he said, holding out the money, “It’s only about fifty dollars, but if you need any emergency supplies, this should give you a leg up. Especially if you sell all those fuckin’ fish you kept stealing out of the lake.”

“I threw those all back,” Rook admitted quietly, taking the money and staring at it. 

Fifty dollars wasn’t all that much in Hope County. It would just be enough to buy a few knives and perhaps a grenade. She looked up at Dutch and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. He patted her awkwardly, stiff and uncomfortable. She let go and pocketed the money.

“Thank you, Dutch. I’m - I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I’m sorry too, kid. Now go out there and kick Peggie ass.”

**~ * ~**

Her radio crackled.

“Good morning, Eleanor. How have you been doing?”

Gunfire blazed overhead and Hurk let out a yelp.

“Oh shit! Agh, they got me in the wiener!”

“Hurky!” Sharky yelled back, “Hang tight dude, I’m comin’! _Fuck_ I’m _runnin’_!”

Rook ducked behind a crate of apples and grappled for her radio. Somewhere to her left, Boomer tackled a Peggie to the ground and bit into his neck. For a dog, he was doing well to hold his own.

“Kinda busy, John. What do you want?”

“Well, to check up on you, of course. And I wanted to ask if you’re finally ready to give up this useless charade and just come to safety. I promise I won’t lock you up, I’ve learned my… lesson.”

Rook peered around the corner, shooting wildly with her pistol. A shot embedded into the side of the truck, another flew wildly, the third hit the Peggie on the turret but only in the leg. He groaned aloud and there was a lull in the fire.

“I’m not ready to be put in a gilded cage, John, I don’t think I ever will.”

“That wasn’t the response I wanted to hear, I’ll be honest-”

“Grenade!” 

A dark object bounced past her. Rook threw herself away as a hail of dirt, dust, and bits of crate and apple blew behind her.

“-I don’t know what I’ll have to do to make you see reason, but if it’s for your safety, I’ll do anything.”

“Can we do this later?” She hissed.

Rook scrambled to her feet and ducked into the house. A Peggie with a gun was inside and with two shots, he was dead.

“What? Why? Also, what’s with all the noise?”

“I’m kinda in the middle of something here.”

“What is it? Eleanor? What are you doing?”

Rook ignored him, instead turning her attention to the pair of Peggies that had stormed inside. She threw the walkie talkie away and grabbed the fallen Peggie’s assault rifle. With a snarl, she fired three times and the two Peggies went limp.

Panting, her blood rushing in her ears, Rook grabbed the walkie talkie again.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Wait, what are you _doing_?”

She switched the channel, readjusted her grip on the gun, and ran back into the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, lemme know what you guys thought.  
> Also Peaches is based off of one of my cats - who is awful and adorable in equal measures.  
> The next chapter will hopefully be out far sooner than these two were.


	6. Allies Assembled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got no excuses. I'm sorry for being so late ya'll...  
> I hope you enjoy!

Sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped into his eyes. He blinked rapidly, the water catching on his eyelashes. His hands shook as he stared her down, his finger trembling on the trigger. An internal battle playing out for the world to see. He hesitated.

The Deputy did not.

The shotgun kicked in her grip.

A hail of bullets sprayed out, embedding themselves into the Peggie in front of her. He fell forward, the assault rifle slipping out of his grasp as he tried fruitlessly to stem the blood that stained his front and the hallowed soil. Rook kicked the gun away and turned her head, eyes flashing as she searched for more enemies. 

A Peggie had her gun raised, finger on the trigger and aimed right for her head. Time slowed. A snarl sounded. The Peggie was thrown to the side like a ragdoll. Her shot went wide as Peaches ripped into her throat.

A growl came from Rook’s left and she turned in time to see Boomer, their newest addition, mercilessly biting into a Peggie’s leg. He tried to hit him back with his arms. A blow caught and before Rook could shoot, Boomer had let go of his leg and lunged for his throat.

Rook turned her head away to take stock of the situation, ignoring the wet, guttural noises of people dying at the hands of her beasts. 

Hurk was up in the repurposed bell tower with Grace. His bazooka had taken care of the Peggie trucks that had rolled in and now he had nothing to do but wait while the rest of them took care of the stragglers.

Grace Armstrong’s green laser swept overhead and Sharky let out a whoop as he took down another Peggie, though the way he was gripping at his arm seemed odd. The Peggie meanwhile was screaming as the flames engulfed him and the sight and sounds reverberated in Rook’s brain, threatening to drag her under. 

A high pressure whistle sounded. A muffled groan was let out as another Peggie fell.

Her radio crackled.

“That was the last of them,” Grace said, her voice soft and calm and in complete contrast to the carnage they had wrought over the past hour, “Come to the steps, Deputy, I’d like to have a word with you.”

The woman Peaches had mauled let out a hideous, final gargle that had Rook shuddering from head to toe. With a weak command, Peaches let go of the dead man and prowled to her side. Boomer too let go of his prey and barked, his tail wagging, as he trotted over. Their fur and muzzles were caked in blood. A wave of nausea hit Rook but she kept it together long enough to reach the steps as instructed.

Grace was down and doing a sweep of the church grounds, firing a pistol round into the heads of all the Peggies that lay there. Killing someone in the heat of the moment was one thing. The cold, calculated way Grace went about dispatching bullets into them was something else. Grace caught Rook’s unfiltered horror but her own expression was grim but firm.

“Gotta make sure none of them are faking it,” She said bitterly.

Rook could do nothing more than nod, glad it was Grace and not her. She reached a hand to the small cut on her arm. It was the only injury she had sustained and it didn’t take a leap of logic to realise why. Especially because it was through no skill of her own.

It just begged the question, as she gazed at the bodies that lay all around, at the blood seeping into the hallowed grounds, if this all hadn’t been overkill. Why hadn’t the Peggies stopped after the first wave had fallen? They had _said_ it was John’s orders to reclaim the church, but was John really so far gone that he didn’t bat an eye for human life?

Hurk called her name and Rook was pulled from her sombre musings.

“Come sit here,” he said, patting a hand against a half-wall rock border overlooking the mini-mausoleums they had killed to defend. 

Rook did, her legs just touching the ground. Hurk offered her a metallic flask and she took it. With a gulp, she cringed at the lukewarm whiskey.

“Agh, that tastes like shit,” she said, as she took another gulp.

“Save some for the rest of us,” Hurk whined, grabbing his flask back and taking a swig.

Moments later, the hollow echoes of the pistol shots still ringing in Rook’s ears, Grace settled down next to them. Sharky and Hurk had been deep in conversation about one of Hurk’s many exploits by that point, completely unphased by the events that had occurred only moments before. Boomer was laying down in from of them, panting as he stared deep into the forest, his ears twitching to catch noises only he could hear. Peaches had left to go prowl in the forest and Rook let her. It was better than seeing her gnaw on the flesh of the dead.

Rook handed Grace the half-empty flask and she took a swig, grimacing at the taste. Rook was comfortably buzzed to not notice it anymore but she sympathised.

“Shit that’s nasty. But I needed that,” Grace grumbled, passing it back, “Thanks, by the way, for all your help. I couldn’t have protected my father’s grace without you guys.”

“It wasn’t a problem. It was cruel, what they were doing.”

If Rook kept justifying the lives she took, it would make it easier to take them, right? She took a hearty swig of the whiskey and passed it over to Hurk. At least her nerves had quietened down and she no longer felt ready to leap out of her own skin.

“It isn’t the only cruel thing the cult’s done since they set up shop. I’ve been hearing chatter that a Deputy’s been going around causing all kinds of hell for the cult. Though, I’ve also heard some things that would paint the Deputy as some saviour for the cult. So, Deputy, which is it?”

“You could say I have a _special_ relationship with the Seeds.”

“Special doesn't cut it,” Hurk interjected, “Johntron calls her every minute of the damn day preaching to her.”

Grace’s expression grew hard and guarded. Rook rushed to intercede before the misunderstanding grew dire. The last thing she needed was a bullet in her skull.

“It’s not like that. It’s really complicated, but it’s not what you think.”

Hurk quickly pulled the flask away from his mouth, a bead of whiskey dripped down his chin, “Aw, hell, I didn’t make it seem like Dep would turn her back on us, did I? Naw, she’d never do that!”

“ _The point is_ ,” Rook stressed, “The cult wants me to join, same as anyone else-” that was a _partial_ lie, they were a bit more emphatic when it came to her, “but I won’t I’m here to bring them down. Peacefully.”

Grace was kind enough not to glance over at the piles of bodies that littered the church grounds. She was quiet for a moment as she eyed Rook. Sizing her up, perhaps, or maybe trying to root out the truth. Finally, after an eternity of having those dark, searching eyes probing her very soul, Grace took a deep breath in, held it, and let it out as a long, quiet sigh.

“So long as you’re not here to ruin more lives, I don’t particularly care what your relationship is with the Seeds.”

Rook took the statement for what it was.

“Thank you, Grace, you don’t have to worry a thing about them.”

“If you ever need someone to watch your back, you know who to call.”

“Actually, we all just kinda travel together,” Sharky said, grinning over from Hurk’s side, “We could totally hijack a van or something so all of us can fit.”

Grace didn’t let her feelings about that show but held her hand out. Rook took it, Grace’s grip was hard, bordering on painful. They shook once. 

“This is honestly like, really freakin’ cool and all, but, uh, the smell of dead bodies is kinda gettin’ to me. So can we bounce?”

“I know a place we can crash for the night. You have a nasty wound there, Boshaw, we can clean it up properly there.”

Rook did a double take and looked more closely at Sharky. Even in the darkness of the encroaching night, there was a noticeable dark mark on his arm. He had gotten hurt and Rook hadn’t even noticed. So much for being a good leader. Rook wished they had more whiskey.

“Aw shucks, Miss Grace, I can barely feel it.”

“That’s exactly why I’m worried. But it’s not just that. After this, I think it’d be smarter to lay low somewhere where John can’t reach us for a bit.”

“That makes sense.” Rook wished she had thought of that.

Grace nodded her head, “If it’s decided. I’ll be back, just gotta pack up some stuff.”

“Aight, I’ll go get Peaches.”

Sharky hopped off of the wall, “Then I’ll find us a vehicle.”

Rook stayed where she was, staring up at the moon. Boomer whined, catching her attention. He had his head tipped to the side, his eyes held her’s. The fight had exhausted her, that was the only reason she felt compelled to talk to a dog.

“Am I really the right person for this?”

He didn’t make a noise, just stared at her. Rook looked away first, staring back up at the rising moon. How stupid of her. If, as a human, she couldn’t rationalise an answer, how could Boomer?

**~ * ~**

Rook stared at the bare wooden beams that made up the ceiling. Grace’s “place” turned out to be just another derelict shell without an owner nestled on the border of Jacob’s territory. But it provided shelter from the cold and wind, so she couldn’t complain. And since none of the windows had been knocked out, it was fairly insulated as well, and Sharky hadn’t insisted on setting fire to things to keep them warm.

Sharky let out a loud, obnoxious snore, as if he knew Rook was thinking of him. Hurk followed him swiftly after. From the moment they had fallen asleep, Hurk and Sharky had been in some unspoken contest to see who could snore the loudest. So far, Hurk was winning. Peaches had left the cabin ages ago, off to sleep in some trees far away from the noise. Boomer stayed despite it and, though deep in the throes of sleep, kept kicking her as he dreamt about chasing after prey.

Grace seemed to be having just as much trouble finding sleep as Rook was, and she didn’t even have a dog hitting her. She hadn’t moved an inch from her spot by the windowsill. With her cap off and her hair loose, she was less of a hardened war veteran capable of dismembering you in ten different ways and more like someone exhausted with the shit the world kept throwing at her.

“They don’t even shut up when they’re asleep, do they?” Grace murmured, turning away from the moonlit view of the gardens beyond.

Rook rolled onto her side in her borrowed bedroll and sent Grace a weak smile.

“If I knew it was going to be this bad, I wouldn’t have insisted on us sticking together.”

“Why _did_ you have us stick together? It wasn’t just because of Boshaw’s injury, was it?”

Rook wasn’t sure herself. Any rushed response she gave would make her sound needy or afraid. But she was needy and afraid. Only, a proper leader couldn’t admit any of that. And that’s what she was - or at least that’s what she had to be.

Clearing her throat, she tried, “Isn’t it better if we stick together?”

Their eyes met. In the dark, with only the moon’s beams acting as a light source, they looked otherworldly, mercurial. A flash of something uncomfortable shot down Rook’s spine. For a long moment, Grace said nothing, and just stared. Eventually she conceded, turning back to face the front lawn of the cabin they were roosting in. 

“If that’s what you want, we can stick together.”

“It’s a dangerous place out there,” Rook said. It sounded like she was making excuses. But whom to?

“It definitely is. We can stick together,” She repeated, “I told you: I’m at your disposal unless you do something stupid.”

A wry smile found itself on Rook’s face. The uncomfortable feeling subsided.

“Define ‘stupid’.”

A crackle sounded, sharp and harsh. Rook’s heart leapt into her throat.

“Deputy,” a rough voice flowed through the speaker. It wasn’t John. 

Grace and Rook eyed the walkie talkie like it was a ticking bomb. 

“I know you’re awake.”

Rook reached her hand out, Grace inhaled sharply. She pushed the button and brought it to her mouth. Swallowing, she spoke with her heart in her mouth.

“Who is this?”

“I’m disappointed. Did you forget my voice already, _Ellie_?”

Rook locked eyes with Grace, who was already moving to grab her gun. 

“Jacob.”

“Ding ding, correct,” he said drily, “You know, when John said you were always up for late night chats, I didn’t take him seriously. And when you _finally_ stepped foot into my territory, well, I just had to test that. And it seems to be true.”

“Why are you calling?”

“I just told you - to test a theory.”

Rook didn’t believe that for a moment. Grace had her sniper rifle in her hand and was doing a covert scope of the front lawn.

“So that’s it?”

“Rook,” Grace exhaled sharply.

“Well, that and to let you know that your cabin is surrounded. Thought I’d give you a friendly head’s up. It’s your first time in my territory after all and I don’t want you going around saying I’m not a friendly host.”

“How did you-”

“I’ve got eyes everywhere, Ellie.”

Rook tore the walkie talkie away from her face and wrestled her way out of the bed roll. When she was free she rushed to Grace’s side and peeked through the window. Massive white wolves with strange smudges on their foreheads were stepping through the clearing. Behind them, Peggies with guns and bows followed.

“Fuck,” Rook hissed, eyeing them, “How many do you count?”

“Six of those damn Judges and ten Peggies. But that’s only on this side.”

“Shit, shit, shit, _shit_!” Rook reached a hand up and grasped at her hair. This was no time to panic. “Hurk! Sharky! Get up!”

They didn’t rise. In fact, they didn’t do much aside from snore during her entire conversation. Mounting fear thrummed through her veins and she shook them aggressively until they startled awake.

“Wha- what’s goin’-”

“We’ve got company,” Grace called loudly. 

And then she shot her rifle. The glass shattered and a Peggie let out a dull groan.

“Oh shit!”

Sharky and Hurk scrambled to their feet and hunted for their weapons, Boomer was up and whining, confused and excited in equal measures. Rook was busy strapping her kevlar vest on while simultaneously trying to holster all of her weapons. Sharky was ready first and joined Grace’s side as he shot rounds blindly outside. The Peggies had begun opening fire right back.

“We just got outta one fight and we gotta go into another one?” Hurk groaned.

Rook sympathised. When she was finally suited up, she held her assault rifle and went to a nearby window, smashing it with her elbow and laying fire onto the Peggies. Peaches had come out of the woods and was in combat with a Judge. Hurk opened the door and Boomer ran to help her.

In the midst of gunfire, her radio crackled by her hip.

“You don’t seem to appreciate my welcome party all that much,” Jacob said, and she could hear the sneer in his voice, “Stop resisting, Rook, and this will all go a lot smoother.”

“Ignore that asshole!” Hurk yelled. 

He aimed his bazooka and shot. A massive explosion knocked out three more Peggies and took out a fair number of trees. And started a fire.

“Shit - great! Good job, Drubman!” Grace screamed.

“What did I do?”

“You caused a forest fire!”

“So? That’ll keep ‘em away!”

“We’re surrounded by forest you idiot!”

“Oh.”

The Peggies seemed to have realised that too and quickly backed away. The fire was spreading quickly between the tightly clustered trees. They whistled to their Judges and the hulking, mutated beasts snapped and snarled at Boomer and Peaches but obeyed.

“Look,” Hurk said, “they’re retreating.”

Grace snarled, “Because they know we’re going to turn into roast!”

Rook had to restore order, they didn’t have the luxury of arguing, “Time to get out of here, guys. Grab whatever you can and _run_.”

Even as Rook spoke, a flaming tree cracked and fell down, blocking the front door.

“Drubman!” Grace screamed.

Sharky groaned aloud, “ _Move_!” 

Sharky and Rook hurried and grabbed what they could, tossing them out of the window. Hurk and Grace had already leapt out and were helping by grabbing them. Peaches and Boomer were on the other side, staring wide-eyed and nervously at the fire and at their teammates.

“Go, run!” Rook yelled at them, “We’ll regroup later, get out of here!”

They seemed reluctant but when another sharp crack sounded, they moved. The spot where they had just stood was quickly overtaken by a burning tree. Backpacks precariously slung over shoulders and weapons haphazardly carried, the four of them powered through the burning forest, trying to find a clear enough path before they were taken away with the fire.

“There is a _reason_ you don’t shoot fucking missiles in enclosed spaces, Drubman! _Especially_ in highly flammable areas!”

As they ran, Grace continued to lecture Hurk, who in turn argued loudly.

“Well, it wasn’t my fault I was tryna help!”

They were spat out of the forest and onto a main road. Panting, the group doubled over and took it as a moment to catch their breath. It was a small by-road and completely deserted. Sharky had thrown himself to the ground, his injured arm clasped over his chest and his uninjured arm supporting him. Hurk looked like he was about to be sick and even Grace seemed short of breath. Rook meanwhile was struggling to stand. Her arms shook and her legs shook and her lungs shook.

“We were supposed to use this as a chance to get John off our tail and now that’s all ruined,” Grace said as soon as she caught her breath.

It was time to step in before Grace chewed Hurk alive. Even if she was right. Raising her hands up in a placating manner, Rook physically stood between them.

“Jacob already somehow knew we were here, so it was inevitable. Though I really wish we hadn’t caused that fire.”

“Looks like we won’t be getting much sleep. We can’t stay here and we sure as fuck can’t go back.”

“I don’t wanna walk anymore,” Sharky complained, “My heart feels like it’s gonna rip outta my chest.”

“Too bad,” Rook sighed, offering him a hand up, “Grace is right, we have to move.”

“Why can’t we just settle down somewhere nice and cosy with actual beds and a kitchen?” Sharky grumbled, grabbing her arm and hauling himself up.

“Because then we wouldn’t be the heroes that Hope County needs.”

“I dunno if I want to be a hero.”

_Neither do I._

**~ * ~**

The sun was shining brightly down on them as they drove through the County. Hurk had been able to flag them a car by pointing his bazooka at the unfortunate occupant and they left the poor man out on the streets. Rook had tried to protest but the others didn’t seem to care as much. And by others, just Sharky and Hurk. Grace had been quiet since the forest fire fight.

“We’ll return it just fine, why are you sulking so much, Dep? Is it cause you're worried about Boomer 'n Peaches?” Hurk asked from beside her.

“No, it's not about them. It's just because. No real reason,” Rook grumbled as she checked her mirrors and clicked the indicator left. Even though Hope County didn’t follow ordinary rules, some things were ingrained. 

“Maybe we should get a vehicle for ourselves. Like a Batmobile or a Mystery Machine. _Shiiiiit_ , think we could come up with a symbol of our own? I’ll paint it on it!”

“Aw man, we could use the Hurk Gate symbol.”

“Cuz, you always have the best ideas. So, what is it? Is it a cool, like, tiger leaping through a flaming hoop or what?”

Hurk seemed troubled, “That’s a lot cooler than the one I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?” Rook asked wearily.

“A bottla’ Bud Light.”

The radio crackled, interrupting anything anyone could have said.

“Jesus, that better not be another one of those Seed asshats.”

“Hello?” An unfamiliar voice crackled out, “This is Nick Rye - I - I need help. Please, if anyone is listening to this - my family is in trouble, you gotta help me.”

“Shit, is that really Nick?” Sharky pushed his head between the front seats and stared at the walkie talkie like that would solve the puzzle. “We gotta help him, Rook. The dude’s a solid guy.”

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. Rook really didn’t want to. She was exhausted to the bone and was in no shape to save anyone.

“I don’t know,” she protested weakly, “we just got out of one fight.”

“Come on, Rook. I can vouch for Nick too. He wouldn’t ask for help unless he really needs it.”

Rook caught Grace’s eye in the rearview mirror and she shrugged. With a sigh, Rook realised she didn’t have much of a choice. Some leader she was turning out to be.

“Fine,” she grumbled, “Let’s go save Nick Rye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's going to be my 21st birthday in a few hours and I don't even feel like an adult - time is passing way too quickly and I don't like it. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Late Night Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double upload to make up for my guilt. Please enjoy!

“You want me to get your plane out from John Seed’s ranch?” Rook repeated slowly once more to make sure she hadn’t imagined it. She followed Nick as he made his way towards the house.

She was far too exhausted for this. Her chest and back hurt from the bullets the kevlar vest had stopped - not that any of them had been aimed to kill her. Her clothes were beginning to get sticky with the warm, drying blood and she _really_ needed a bath, but first she had to make sure she heard right.

“A-yup,” Nick Rye nodded, “Hell, if you can fight half as good as just now, John and his goons don’t stand a chance!”

“I don’t know about that,” Grace murmured from the side. Her rifle clinked as she shifted her weight, “What we did just now was a cakewalk compared to what you’re asking. I scoped out his place once, just for kicks. It’s well defended. _Very_ well defended. Even if we were in top form, it would be a problem. And as we stand now.”

She cast a look around at them. Rook could only imagine what she looked like. Sleep deprived, bruised and bloody. Sharky and Hurk were pale and tired.

“Please,” Nick Rye begged, stopping in his tracks and turning to face Rook properly. Even with those silly aviators on, she could sense his desperation, “That plane is my family’s ticket out of here. You can take the house - hell, take the whole damn airfield if you want, but just get me that plane back.”

“Shit, imagine a whole airfield just for us,” Hurk said to himself.

“Imagine a real bed,” Sharky added.

Rook ignored both of them and stared hard at Nick. Because of the Seed’s _interesting_ recruitment methods, there were plenty of abandoned homes and cabins her group could shuck up in whenever they needed to. But after the debacle last night, having a base of their own that they could fortify and secure? That had potential. 

Even with the oppressive silence and heavy, dark stares, Rook knew Grace was weighing the pros and cons of the venture with just as much scrutiny as she was. They had spent barely two days together, but Rook wanted to believe she had a grasp of what Grace could be like.

“Please,” Nick said again. Quieter, this time, so only Rook could hear. 

Damn her bleeding heart. It was going to get her killed.

“Okay.”

Nick Rye collapsed in on himself from relief and straightened himself just as quickly. He put a hand on her shoulder, warm and firm, and patted it once.

“You are a lifesaver, Deputy. I won’t ever forget this.”

“Let me get your plane back first,” Rook said tiredly, “Who’s to say I’ll even come back from this alive.”

“Oh, I know you will, Deputy. You fight like a goddamned animal. And that works in your favour.”

“Thanks,” she replied wryly, “Just so you know, I’ll have to do this alone, so my group will need a place to stay in the meanwhile. They’re pretty tired, so if you’ve a place they can crash in, that’ll be-”

Grace scoffed, “Like hell you’re walking into enemy territory alone.”

“It’ll be easier with fewer people, Grace.”

Sharky let out a noise of protest. He was rolling his shoulder in a show of discomfort.

“I’m with Miss Grace on this, Dep: it’s way too dangerous. And after what happened with the bunker-”

The hair stood up on the back of her neck. Her heart stopped. Did Sharky know? Her brain caught up with the rest of her and she forced herself to relax. She hadn’t told them and John hadn’t made any grandiose announcement about it either - there was no way he could know the truth. 

And they never would. Especially at this point. The implications - of her hiding a secret like this - were far more sinister than the actual reason. Their rocky partnership would crash to the ground and if Rook was going to take Hope County back from the Seeds, she needed all the allies she could get.

“The _bunker_ was the bunker. This is different. I won’t allow myself to get caught this time.” She _couldn’t_.

“I don’t like this, I don’t like this one bit.”

“I know, Grace, I know,” Rook sighed, bringing a hand up to her face and trying to scrub the exhaustion away, “But Nick and his family need our help and this is the only way.”

“I somehow doubt that,” She growled back.

Nick cleared his throat. Rook had forgotten he had been standing there.

“Do you guys want a minute to discuss this or?”

“No,” Rook said, her voice far firmer than she felt and brokering no disagreement, “No, everything is settled. I’ll be leaving in a bit, just gotta make sure my stuff is in order.”

“Gotta write out your will?” Grace muttered darkly.

“Arright,” Nick said, glancing between them, “Come on into the house then when you’re ready and we’ll make sure you get something to eat and drink. We’ve got a spare room you can crash in. Least we could do after you saved our lives.”

Rook took a step towards him and stopped when a hand grabbed her arm.

“Wait until nightfall,” Grace murmured. Nick had already turned around and began to lead the way to his home again.

“We don’t have time for-”

“I am letting you go alone, Deputy, but I’m not letting you go in broad daylight when any Peggie could use you as target practice.”

They stood there, the dust from the airfield rolling past them in a small cloud. The dark camouflage paint on her cheeks was smudged from the sweat and heat of their battles. Her rifle slung over her back, her strong arms clenched tightly, her dark eyes peering from underneath her hat - Grace was someone you definitely didn’t want to argue with. The hard look in her eyes would quell any lesser person, and even Rook was struggling not to break eye contact and stare down in submission.

Hurk rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m with Gracie on this one, Dep. It’s bad enough we won’t be able to give you any backup, At least have _some_ cover, ya know?”

“I still don’t know why you can;t just have one of us go with you, Dep,” Sharky said, raising his hand up in a Vulcan salute, “I won’t make any noise, scouts honour.”

She cracked a smile and headed towards the house. Her companions followed.

If Peaches or Boomer had returned, Rook would have considered them. But they hadn’t and she couldn’t consider any of her human companions. On the off chance that any of the Seeds were there at their ranch, she didn’t want them to hear or see anything. And Rook also knew that neither of her human companions would back down, which left only one solution.

“Fine. I’ll go at night if that makes you guys feel better. We should also come up with some sort of plan in case I don’t make it-”

“No.”

“Sharky,” Rook sighed, “We can’t just ignore that possibility. Look, I might die, I might not. If I don’t, great. If I do, well…”

“I don’t like this, Dep,” Hurk whined.

Rook stopped on Nick Rye’s porch, stood right underneath the American flag - _how poetic_ she thought to herself - that he had strung up, and waited for her companions to join her. Inside, Nick Rye was speaking in low tones with his wife, Kim.

“I want you guys to go to Dutch and let him know if anything happens to me. I’ll be taking my walkie-talkie, but I’ll be keeping it off. If you guys don’t hear anything from me by dawn, assume I’m dead and act accordingly. I’ll try to avoid getting my ass handed to me, but if what you said is true, Grace, I’m sure I’ll have my work cut out for me.”

And if any of the Seeds were there, she’d have more to worry about than just heavily armed Peggies.

“You need to work on them speeches of yers. Maybe that should be another requirement to enter Hurk’s Gate.”

Rook snorted, “I already don’t meet half of them, cut me some slack.”

“Just-” Grace let out a loud sigh, “Promise me you’ll stay safe and be careful. And don’t do _anything_ stupid.”

“I promise. Now come on, we don’t want to keep the Ryes waiting. I don’t know about you guys, but I would kill for a bath and some shut eye.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have come here,” Sharky muttered to himself.

“It was your idea, Boshaw.”

“I know that, Miss Armstrong. That’s why you guys should have known better.”

“Unbelievable.”

**~ * ~**

Infiltrating John’s ranch was easy.

Easier than she expected, at any rate

Grace had let her go near midnight, when Nick and his wife had gone to sleep and Hurk and Sharky were knocked out in the spare room upstairs. After a few hours of sleep, Grace had woken her up and given her a run-down of the compound as well as what to expect. She forced Rook to engrain the layout - which took a lot longer than either of them but expected.

That meant, by the time Rook reached the outskirts of the ranch, it was almost one in the morning and the darkness cloaked her.

She sneaked past the docks, keeping care to avoid the pair of Peggie lookouts in dark trench coats smoking by the dock house. A quick swim allowed her to circumnavigate that issue, even if she was soaked to the bone and shivering. Because of all the nights, tonight had to be a windy one.

The silver lining was that the howling wind and rustling leaves did wonders to hide the crunching of branches as Rook moved up the slope towards the back of the ranch. Despite her aching knees, the fence was easy to leap over and the crate of Peggie supplies emblazoned with the cult’s symbol probed to be the perfect place to duck behind. Shaking from the cold, Rook grabbed her loaned night-vision binoculars and scoped out the area.

There were three Peggies on the patio facing a massive shed to the side, two were on the ranch’s balcony, one on the shed’s balcony and two that did circles every - Rook kept time using her cartoon watch - fifteen minutes. All things considered, the security was fairly lax; especially after how dangerous Grace had made it out to be. Then again, it was late at night and maybe the Seeds weren’t even _at_ their ranch.

Rook could only hope. 

The back doors to the ranch itself lay ajar, a sliver of warm, inviting yellow light peeked through. The plane wasn’t hiding in there, but curiosity, and the urge to escape from the cold - however temporarily - got the best of her and, when the patrols were a safe distance away, she crouch-ran towards the door. A quick peek inside told her it was empty and she hurriedly slipped in and shut the door behind her.

Straightening up, Rook turned her back to the door and her eyes widened.

“Jesus,” she breathed.

The room was rustic for the main part. An antler-chandelier hung from the high-ceiling, a pair of cult banners proudly displayed on either side of it. A stuffed, mounted moose-head stared judgmentally down at the long dining table directly in front of her. A healthy fire roared in the fireplace and that was the reason it was so warm in the room. Rook, her heart hammering in her throat, took a few measured steps inside, careful for any squeaking wood panels, but there weren’t any.

It was unbearably opulent. From the elegant cougar guarding the staircase that curled up to the left to the bear rug, the snarling wolf and the stuffed longhorn deer that flanked a miniature bookshelf choked full of hardback books. She couldn’t see which books they were but something told her that the contents of that bookshelf alone cost more than all her organs combined.

It seemed the Seed siblings had really done well for themselves. As far as Grace had known, they had gotten the ranch legally. Immorally and maybe unethically, but legally nonetheless. But as she took in the dark leather sofas and the beautifully crafted supporting beams that lead up to the vaulted ceiling, Rook couldn’t help but notice that something was amiss amidst all this richness.

There were trinkets and trophies and cult memorabilia but a piece of the puzzle was missing. Wasn’t this the base of operations? Hadn’t Grace said that they often visited the ranch? That John and Joseph spent many nights in it?

A long-buried memory arose of a stairwell and photographs lined all along it. It was fuzzy and Rook could only vaguely recall it, but she remembered standing on the Seed’s staircase, going over their framed photographs. Maybe the Seeds had kept them for appearances sake - at the time Rook had certainly thought they were a tight-knit family. Only to realise they were anything but.

Rook spotted framed photographs set on the far wall. There was one of Joseph - in the role of the “Father”. And beside it was one of the four Seeds. It wasn’t an actual family picture, it was one solely for propaganda and one Rook had seen more than enough of.

“Well, well, well, this is certainly a surprise.”

Rook’s blood turned to ice.

Why hadn’t she caught the sound of a door opening or even footsteps? Just how long had John been standing there, watching her?

Rook turned slowly, her movements mechanical, as she faced the first floor landing. John was leaning on the banister, his arms folded on top of the handrail and his head tilted to the side. There wasn’t any gel in his hair and it hung limply in front of his face. The most confusing part of his ensemble was that he was wrapped up in a fluffy, dark bathrobe.

Right, it was well past midnight after all. Even crazed cult leaders needed to sleep.

“Late night house calls? And here I thought you hated me.”

Rook didn’t reply. She turned her head to the left and then the right, trying to figure out any escape route she could take.

“Don’t even think about it, Eleanor,” John sang. He took one leisurely step after another and descended the staircase, his fluffy slippers muffling the noise - that explained _one_ mystery, “I just have to scream and the whole ranch will be flooded with guards. So do us both a favour and settle down.”

Rook bore her teeth at him, letting her hand rest on her pistol in an obvious move.

John just rolled his eyes, “Do you want something to drink?”

“Do you offer drinks to all your enemies?” She demanded weakly. She cursed herself for how much her voice wavered.

“Enemies?” John snorted, stuffing his hands into his robe pockets. He stopped on the last stair and leaned against the bannister, “Absolutely not. Unless of course there was poison in it.”

“It isn’t exactly a smart business move to _tell_ me you’re going to poison my drink to my face.”

“Perhaps, but that was _if_ I had any plan to poison your drink.” His smile was sardonic. “Clearly someone hasn’t been listening to our radio waves. I don’t think of you as my enemy, Eleanor. Far from it. You’re misguided, definitely, but not my enemy. Come, we’ll have more privacy in the kitchen.”

He led the way without further preamble towards a set of doors underneath the staircase. Rook hesitated, shooting a glance through the doorway to the backyard: to her escape out of there. And then she cursed herself and followed after him.

John’s kitchen was exactly what she expected. Following the rustic theme of the main room, the kitchen was all dark wood and low hanging ceiling lights, dotting with the occasional soft-yellow spotlights. In one word: beautiful. In two: unfathomably expensive.

John shuffled over to a cabinet and took out two crystalline tumblers and set them on the dark granite island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Have a seat.”

It wasn’t a request.

Rook hesitated again but eventually relented. The stools in front of the island were comfortable and the perfect height. Because if the Seeds could afford such an expensive ranch, they could afford ergonomic seating.

John continued to bustle around, opening cabinets and shelves and occasionally muttering quietly to himself until he returned to the island with an armful of expensive looking liquors of varying types. From hard whiskey to an expensive looking bottle of wine. She even spied a sizable bottle of absinthe. Rook was _sure_ there was a sin lurking somewhere amidst the overflowing volume of alcohol.

“Don’t give me that look,” John grunted, “They’re for special occasions. Besides, everyone is allowed their little sins.”

“This doesn’t seem like a _little_.”

He smiled, small and slanted, as he poured out a thumb of whiskey for himself.

“Are you passing judgement on me then, Ellie? That’s hardly fair. Come on, take your pick. Unlike someone, _I_ won’t judge.”

“I’m not here to drink, John.”

“Of course you aren’t. Sneaking through my back door, drenched to the bone - it’s not the most orthodox way to steal my stash. But before you carry out whatever you’ve been tasked with, have a drink with me.”

“How did-”

“Because I would never be so lucky as to have you come into my home, under my _roof_ , so willingly. At least not after what happened.” He paused and reached a hand up to rub at his sternum. His robes were tied too tightly for Rook to see why. He sighed and sipped at his whiskey. “So, before you start shooting, do me a favour and have a drink with me.”

Rook shifted her hand was nonchalantly as she could away from her pistol and grabbed the closest bottle to her. High-quality vodka. Great. Stealing a plane back would be an absolute _breeze_ with a few shots in her system. Internally, she cursed up a storm. Externally, she tried to appear as unaffected as possible and poured out a trickle of vodka.

“Is that all you’re having?”

Rook clenched her teeth and tipped in more under John’s watchful eye.

“So,” he said once he was satisfied with how much she’d poured, “what dirty laundry did those spineless bastards heft off onto you, Eleanor?”

“You really think I’d tell you?”

The vodka flowed smoothly down her throat, burning a pleasant trail as it went. She set the tumbler down carefully and groaned aloud when John automatically reached forward to pour her another thumb of vodka. When he was satisfied, he moved to pour himself his fourth round of whiskey. Did he want both of them horrendously drunk?

“Why not. Worth a shot, isn’t it?” He grinned, lifting his glass in a silent salute before continuing, “I can always play the ‘childhood friends’ card and play at your sympathy, but you’d probably call me something nasty and my constitution is far too delicate for that.”

Rook scoffed. “Delicate constitution” her ass. John seemed to read her mind because his grin grew and he sipped slowly at his drink. For a brief moment, Rook could almost see his childhood in that grin. And then she rid herself of that thought. 

“Of course I would,” she murmured into her glass, “You three should be ashamed of what you’ve become.”

All the humour left his face and his jaw twitched.

“And what would that be? Powerful? Beloved? _Respected_?” He hissed, “Oh yes, how _shameful_ it is that we are finally being treated like human beings instead of a blight on the earth.”

“Stop being so overdramatic, John. There were other ways to escape what happened to you three. Murder and kidnapping innocent people is not one of them.”

“Don’t you think we _tried_? Do you think the very first thing we did was go charging in, guns blazing? Of course not!”

Rook wrangled with her rising anger. It wouldn’t do if they were both drunk and angry.

“It doesn’t matter what you did, it matters what you’re doing _now_. And what you’re doing now is ruining so many lives. How can you not see that? Why can’t you just talk this out?”

He slammed his drink down. The glass shattered and the whiskey spilled everywhere. Rook leapt to her feet, the stool screeched angrily as it was pushed back.

“We talked! Peacefully! We were so friendly and welcoming and patient and they spat right in our faces! Maybe _I_ deserved it - whatthefuckever - I don’t care! But what about Joseph? Jacob?”

Rook lowered her drink carefully. John’s hand was shaking and if he wasn’t careful his palm would end up injured.

“John, calm down.” 

“Jacob fought for those bastards, he sacrificed himself in the name of this fucked-up country and he was treated like dirt!”

John was breathing heavily, his eyes were wild and shifty and he looked moments away from some sort of breakdown. Rook had to work fast before he hurt himself.

“John,” she said.

John wasn’t listening. He brought his hands up to his face and scrubbed at it. It didn’t seem like he had hurt himself but Rook had to make sure he didn’t do anything rash.

“And Joseph,” He continued, heaving for air, “H-he faced so much rejection already. The whole fucking world was against him. He held his hand out to them and they - they - the people of Hope County are getting everything that they _deserve_.”

“John,” she said, louder this time, firmer, and moved towards him. She reached a hand out to touch his shoulder, “Enough, calm down.”

He curled away from her, as if burned. Rook remained where she was, caught off guard. John backed away.

“What we’re doing isn’t murder, _Deputy_ ,” John spat, turning his face away, “This is holy retribution.”

Rook told herself not to anger him further. She knew the rumors. An angry John was a dangerous John. But he was going too far.

“So what Jacob is doing up in the mountains, pitting people against each other, starving them, caging them like _animals_ , _that’s_ also “holy retribution”, is it?”

His mouth twisted harshly, “What Jacob does or doesn’t do is none of my concern. He answers to Joseph, not me.”

“Right. Joseph and his _Voice_.”

John turned to face her, those blue eyes flashing wildly, “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Rook took a step forward. Anger flooded through her veins.

John backed away, his mania quickly changing into something else. Rook stopped in her tracks. He was shaking. He looked wary. Of _her_. His robe had loosened and Rook’s eyes dropped from his ashen face to the thick layer of cotton bandage wrapped around his sternum. The wind was knocked out of her sails and she was left reeling.

“John,” she said, staring at the white cotton, “What happened to you?”

He didn’t answer. His hands shook. _He_ shook.

“This?” He squeaked, and then cleared his throat, “This is my punishment.”

Something heavy shifted in her stomach, “Why did you need to be punished?”

“Because I was being greedy.”

Rook curled her hands into fists. The vodka sloshed uncomfortably in her stomach.

“What happened to you three? Where did all of this go wrong?”

It wasn’t a question she had meant to say out loud, but the words were in the air and John stared at her downcast and pitiful.

“That’s a good question. Where did it go wrong? When our father used Jacob’s skin as an ashtray? Or when our mother decided nursing a bottle of alcohol was more important than nursing Joseph's broken bones.”

“You can’t use the abuse you suffered from before for the crimes you’re committing now, John.”

“Maybe,” he said, refusing to meet her eyes, “Maybe not. I don’t know if what we’re doing could ever be justified but I know one thing: I don’t care. Because when everyone else abandoned me, Joseph didn’t. So if he wants me to burn this fucking country to the ground, I’ll do it. Because he kept his promise.”

Rook wasn’t a fool, she could see what he was trying to imply. And she wouldn’t stand for it.

“I _didn’t_ abandon you, John. You weren’t abandoned, you were taken. When will you accept that?”

“No,” he agreed, “You’re right. But you did the next best thing: you forgot about me.”

“I was a _child_!” Rook yelled, stopping herself as soon as the words left her mouth. 

_Shit_ , she couldn’t afford to be so emotional. She had a job to do.

“So was I.”

A hush fell between them, thick and suffocating. John wouldn’t look at her and Rook forced away any guilt or pain that threatened to drown her. John ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face, even as it flopped back down. He sighed long and loud. 

“Go do whatever it is you’ve agreed to. I won’t raise the alarm, but if you get caught, I won’t show any mercy.”

“What?”

Rook wondered if she had misheard.

“Go, Eleanor. Joseph taught me that holding you against your will isn’t right, but I can’t pretend to turn a blind eye if you end up getting caught. We may think you are worth converting, but our Flock does not. I’d suggest you don’t get spotted.”

“Why are you doing this?”

John looked so small in that moment, hunched over in his fluffy, dark blue bathrobe. His eyes downcast, his hair falling back into his eyes and shielding them from her view. HIs lips were tugged down into a deep frown and he exuded the same energy as a kicked puppy. 

But Rook knew that frown. She remembered how it promised that moments later John would end up crying and she would come up with ridiculous plots to get him to smile again. How quickly things had changed.

Rook turned her back on him then. This was all becoming far too much for her. Without another word, she made a move towards the double doors, leaving John, the bottles of alcohol and the spilled whiskey behind.

“Because we were friends once, and I want us to be friends again.”

The kitchen doors shut quietly behind her.

**~ * ~**

“Come in Rook, is that you? Please, _please_ tell me that’s you.”

Rook picked up the walkie talkie with one hand while the other remained on the control stick. The early dawn sun shined from behind the Whitetail Mountains, setting the sky on fire and painting it with brilliant shades of blues and purples and oranges. Carmina purred as Rook kept it at a steady altitude, eating up the distance between her and the Rye and Sons airstrip.

“Yeah, it’s me, Grace.”

“Shit. Fuck. Goddamn, do you know how worried we were? Thank _fuck_ I saw Rye’s stupid plane.”

Rook recalled their contingency plan and grimaced.

“Whoops?”

“Fuck, land that dumb plane so I can beat the shit out of you. Rye has been on my ass for hours and I need to let out my- hey!”

There was interference and the faint sound of Grace squawking. Rook pulled the walkie talkie away from her mouth and glanced at it, wondering if it was malfunctioning.

“Dep!” Sharky shouted down the line, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Sharky. I’m going to land in a bit, tell Nick to keep the landing strip open.”

“But the landing strip is already open?”

“I- nevermind. I’ll see you guys in a bit. Tell Nick I want a hot meal and a hot bath. Rook, over and out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	8. Welcome to the Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It has been.... a long time since I last posted and I have nothing to say but that my life has been a bit of a rollercoaster the past few months and while I won't say it's settled, there has been a lull in it. I also want to thank each and every one of you who commented and kudo's'ed. It means far more to me than I could ever articulate.   
> Anyway, a double entry because I felt guilty and had a good writing day.   
> Enjoy!

_“Welcome to the Bliss.”_

Eleanor jerked up. A hot wave shot down her stomach and she gasped out a breath. Green mist rolled down the Whitetail Mountains, covering everything like some ominous blanket. She looked around and found that everything around her was so inexplicably wrong. The trees, the grass, the sky - it was all wrong and the longer she looked the further her fear and confusion mounted.

Eleanor couldn’t remember anything.

Another hot wave shot through her stomach. Her anxiety skyrocketed.

“Shh,” a soft, cajoling voice called over her shoulder, “It’s okay. Everything is okay. You don’t need to worry anymore.”

The hot wave dissipated mid-roll and a shudder went through her whole body, alighting all her nerves in turn and then soothing them. Eleanor let out a shaky breath and found she was far calmer than before.

“Good. You’re a natural.”

Eleanor preened at the praise and peered over her shoulder to see who was complimenting her. No one. Blinking, she turned back round to be greeted by a beautiful, brown haired girl kneeling in front of her. The girl grinned, looking more elf than human and held out her hands. Her eyes, bright and encouraging, twinkled as Eleanor slowly took them.

The girl hauled Eleanor to her feet with surprising strength and began to lead her through a path thick with flowers. Eleanor looked around.

They were standing in the middle of a field of flowers as far as the eye could see. No mountains or trees obstructed her view. Delicate white trumpets grew in clumps and clusters and were littered all about. Sprouting up like poles, orange snapdragons swayed in the gentle breeze alongside the tallgrass leaves. Thick thickets of pink, red and lilac rhododendrons with their evergreen foliage provided a blanket of green undergrowth. Wherever Eleanor looked, more flora became apparent.

Had there always been these many flowers? Her eyes softened. She loved flowers. 

“Follow me,” the girl said, glancing over her shoulder, “there’s someone who’s been eager to meet you for a while now.”

“Who is it?”

Eleanor couldn’t think of many people who would want to meet her. Still, the girl pressed on, passing by the foliage with barely a glance. Eleanor ran her hand through them, plucking a snapdragon free and playing with it’s head even as the girl tugged her along.

“The Father. He specially asked me to bring you to him. But before that, I have a question I wanted to ask you.”

It took Eleanor a moment to recall who “The Father” even was. And when she did, she found she didn’t mind this little elven girl asking about her. She wanted to meet Joseph as well. It had been far too long, after all.

A small, strange inkling in the back of her mind told her that that wasn’t quite right but Eleanor ignored it easily.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the Bliss,” she said, spreading her free hand around, a foxy smile on her face, “It’s a special place the Father allowed me to create just for people like you.”

“Like me?”

“That’s right. People who are confused, who’ve strayed away from the Right Path. They’ve been lied to for so long they can’t even recognise the Truth.”

“The Truth?” Eleanor repeated, almost like a broken record.

“The world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It hasn’t for a long time. It’s become corrupt and liars are being paraded around as saints. The Father knows this - we _all_ know this, which is why we want to help people like you break free from your shackles.”

Eleanor glanced down at her feet, at her too-big dark boots she had borrowed from Dutch. There weren’t any shackles around them. Just the grass and dirt and the occasional flower she accidentally trampled on. 

“I’m not wearing shackles,” She said slowly, in case this wasn’t something Faith knew.

Faith sighed, the same sort of sigh her mother would let out when Eleanor would annoy her on purpose, “I didn’t mean literally, Deputy. But you are wearing the heaviest ones of all, after all, you’re the leader of the Resistance, aren’t you?”

“I’m not the leader of anything.”

Faith stopped them in the middle of the field. A breeze started and the flower stalks swayed, the grass rustled and the white of Faith’s dress fluttered. Eleanor stared at her dress. It was pure white and lacy with flowers sewn into the bodice and hem. 

A memory floated to the surface of her mind. Of a Christmas from years past. Of a sad, scrawny boy with big, blue eyes. Of her heart racing at what had been a passing comment for him. She wanted to follow this memory, grasp onto it like a loose thread and unravel everything that confused her. Before she could, her hands brushing past the thread, Faith spoke up.

“Oh? And what makes you say that?”

Her mouth moved without her consent and the words escaped her, “It started with Dutch asking me to do something, but now all I want to do is help the Seeds. John and Joseph and even Jacob - we were friends and I don’t want to see them hurt any longer.”

Faith put her arms behind her back and cocked her head to one side. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder in a luscious brown wave. Sparkles twinkled in her hair like stars in the night sky.

“But don’t you realise what you’re doing is hurting them more?”

“But they’re hurting other people.”

“Who is more important though?”

Eleanor opened her mouth and closed it. Sensing her hesitancy, Faith went in for the kill.

“Well? Who is it? Your friends? Or strangers?”

“It’s not about who’s more important, it’s-”

Faith snorted and turned her face away. With her arms still behind her back, she took two steps and did a little twirl, dancing to music only she could hear. Eleanor was helpless, trapped in place as she watched Faith dance circles around her. She paused behind Eleanor, her mouth close to her ear. A shiver wracked up her spine and she recognised it as fear.

“It very much is,” Faith said, here voice pitched low and eerie, so unlike how she had spoken so far, “Where does your loyalty lie, Deputy? Do you really care for the Father and his siblings or are you just saying that? What’s the truth?”

And then she moved away and the oppressive weight loosened. Eleanor could breathe again. 

“Of course I care for them!”

Faith came to a stop in front of her. The smile she had been sporting earlier was wiped clean. In its place sat a stern, glum look. Her thin, fair brows were furrowed together so tightly thin lines appeared. And while her glassy blue eyes were sharp and clear, she was looking right through Eleanor.

“You can’t have both,” she said quietly, “I tried, once. To hold on to both. But it doesn’t work like that. It isn’t possible. To have one, you’re going to have to give up the other. Any other way is going to end up killing you.” Her left hand drifted up and she clutched at the inside of her right elbow. “So the question I have for you is this: what are you going to give up? Joseph and his brothers? Or the Resistance?”

“I don’t know.” 

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, Deputy. One you don’t know the stakes of. The lives of countless people hang in the balance depending on which side you choose. Human life doesn’t hold much weight in front of the Seeds.”

“What do you mean? What does that _mean_?”

Faith seemed to age ten years in that moment. 

“Exactly what I said. No one matters quite as much to them as they do. Except you. You’re the only exception to the rule. I thought that Sheriff was too - now I’m not so sure. But you? You could do so much - _save_ so many, if you just make the right choice.”

Eleanor’s heart thundered in her throat. The fog was lifting. The inkling returned and it was harder to wave away this time.

“And what is that choice?”

Faith took a step towards her. Eleanor tried to move but found she was frozen. Her mind told her to be wary but her body remained lulled. The inkling grew louder until it was a thought in its own right.

_Something is wrong._

Eleanor’s eyes widened.

_The flowers._

Like a flash, Faith’s demeanour changed. She grabbed a pretty white Bliss flower out from a nearby bushel that suddenly appeared, wrenching the pollen straight out of the flute. Rook opened her mouth to speak when Faith blew the pollen straight into her face. Rook coughed, blinked, and found the world was spinning as white spots floated in front of her eyes.

“Time’s up,” Faith whispered, her eyes fearful, “The Father is waiting.”

Eleanor closed her eyes.

~ * ~

Eleanor opened her eyes slowly.

Birds sang sweetly all around her. Grass swayed gently against her, tickling her cheek as she shifted up onto her feet and looked around. It was a beautiful clearing. A thin mist lay all thick on the ground as butterflies and birds fluttered and chirped and twittered about. Trees and animals and life grew and everything was so picturesque, so luminous, so pure. Eleanor could only stare in awe.

She had no idea how she got there, but she found she didn’t really care. Because nothing mattered - not really. Not when she was so light and buoyant - a helium balloon bouncing above the clouds.

Eleanor wandered through the woods and out into a field, her hands spreading out wide by her side as she enjoyed the soft, warm sunlight and the sweet, fresh air. A jackalope hopped past her, its fluffy tail twitching along with its long ears. She grinned, overtaken with the urge to chase after it. She was her very own Alice and this was her Wonderland.

The jackalope led the way through the field, past a gorgeous brook that gargled merrily. A pair of elk stood, their hooves spread apart as they drank. The male raised his head, his heavy rack of antlers shining in the sunlight. Eleanor wanted to reach out and touch the proud beast. So she reached her hand out and tried to touch it.

The elk huffed a breath and shook its massive head. A bubble of laughter erupted deep from her chest and Eleanor retracted her hand, turning her attention to see that her jackalope friend was waiting patiently, cleaning around the base of his own set of antlers with his front paw as best as he could. Grinning, Eleanor waited for him to finish his ritual and lop off before following after, a bounce in her tep that rivaled her guide’s.

“ _Deputy._ ” A voice in the wind called. Soft and distant.

She stopped and stared around. A family of moose passed on the other side, their baby prancing this way and that, shaking it’s oversized head. Eleanor smiled. Her furry friend was waiting again and she motioned for it to lead the way.

“ _Deputy. Deputy._ ”

The voices in the wind were growing fainter the further they wandered until Eleanor forgot all about them.

In the distance rose a sizable mound, and at the very top sat a lone apple tree in full bloom. Her guide seemed to be heading for the tree and so she upped her pace, eager to see what lay in wait for her there. The closer they got, the more Eleanor could see. A man was resting underneath the tree, a white book in one hand and an untouched, bright red apple in the other.

When Eleanor drew towards the base of the mound, he lowered his book and his face brightened. She knew those bright blue eyes, that familiar, easy, calm smile.

“Joseph!” She laughed aloud. It had been far too long since she had last seen him. Eleanor hiked up until she stood right in front of him, panting lightly.

“Eleanor,” he said, setting the book to his side and getting to his feet. The red apple remained in his left hand. 

They stopped right in front of each other. Eleanor was breathless and laughing. Joseph gazed down at her with soft eyes and a softer smile. They were kids again, grinning over something silly John had said or done or sharing an inside joke about their school the other two brothers wouldn’t understand.

Eleanor had always liked Joseph - heaps more than Jacob at any rate - though she had, at times, been equally nervous around both of John’s older brothers. A nervousness she hadn’t understood until she had gotten a bit older. But that wasn’t what she was thinking about. Eleanor wasn’t thinking about much at all aside from how happy she was to see him.

“It’s been so long. You’ve changed a lot.” She scrunched her nose playfully, cocking her head to the side. “You became so old your shirts don’t fit you.”

They both looked at Joseph’s bare torso and he smiled sheepishly. His blue eyes crinkled and he ran a hand over his slicked back bun.

“You’ve changed as well, Eleanor. You’ve grown into a beautiful woman.”

The breath was knocked out of her and her stomach swooped.

“A-aw shucks, you’re just saying that. You don’t look too bad yourself, old man.”

“ _Rook, where are you? Come in, where are you?_ ”

Eleanor’s ears perked up. The voices in the wind were back. Joseph’s smile wavered momentarily but he quickly took a step forward, reducing the space between them. Until only a hairsbreadth remained between them. Eleanor sucked in a deep breath and looked up into Joseph’s eyes.

A bright blue butterfly fluttered past them. Eleanor’s eyes latched onto it as it settled onto the trunk of the tree. The butterfly flexed its powdery blue wings and wandered along the dark bark. Something was odd about it, but Eleanor couldn’t put her finger on what.

“You must be so tired, Eleanor. Why don’t you come and rest with me? You must be exhausted after all that work. We can lie down by the tree and catch up - it’s been too long and I want to hear everything. We can half the apple. Here, come and join me.”

Joseph reached his free hand forward and carefully slipped it around hers. His hand was calloused but gentle. A working man’s hands.

Heavy fatigue settled into her bones. Eleanor’s eyes grew heavy. Her blood was thick and sluggish in her veins. God, she _was_ tired. It was such a nice day too. With the warm sun and the cool breeze, resting underneath the tree with Joseph sounded wonderful. Eleanor wanted to join him. Her eyelids fluttered.

She opened her mouth, eager to accept.

“ _Rook!_ ”

Her eyes snapped open. The voice was louder this time; desperate. The fatigue fled her body and she turned away from Joseph. His hand slipped away from hers. Where were the voices coming from?

“Eleanor?”

“ _Rook!_ ”

The butterfly alighted from the tree. It’s wings dark as sin.

“Don’t you hear that?” she murmured, casting another look around the empty field.

“Ignore it,” Joseph said, a sudden urgent in his voice, “Look at me. Eleanor? Look. At. Me.”

The animals had all fled. Wait, _were_ there ever even any animals? A sharp ache stabbed through her head. Eleanor groaned, grabbing the side of her face and wincing. Joseph’s face was impassive- as cold and unyielding as stone. What was happening? The sun wasn’t warm and comforting - it was cold and green. Her breath came out harshly, a plume of smoke appearing before her. Smoke? There was a strange smoke over everything, a hazy green smoke with white sparkles all around it - a green nebula. _What was happening?_

“ _Rook, wake up! Come on!_ ”

“Joseph?” She wheezed, a cry escaping as another stab of pain shot through her brain, “What’s happening?”

“Eat this. Now.”

He shoved the apple into her face. It was pitch black. 

Eleanor recoiled, tripping over her own feet and tumbling down the mound into a heap of limbs at the bottom. Groaning, clutching at her head with one hand, Eleanor carefully got to her feet.

Joseph was gone. The tree was gone. Rook was standing in Hell.

All around her lay chaos and destruction. Fires burned, crumpled black _things_ lay in unceremonious heaps and piles. Cars, broken and destroyed, littered the cracked streets. Buildings were in absolute ruin - windows missing and fires wreaking havoc on any bits that still stood. 

It was a scene from a post-apocalyptic horror movie. Where had the field gone? The mound? The tree? Had any of it ever even existed?

“This is what I’m trying to avoid, Eleanor.”

Eleanor whipped around. Joseph stood there, amidst the carnage like he belonged. His hands behind his back, those hideous, ugly, yellow sunglasses hiding harsh blue eyes. Instead of the familiar friendly smile there lay a hard frown. This wasn’t her Joseph, this was the Father.

“What the hell is going on?” she demanded weakly.

“Look around you, Eleanor. If you continue your selfish, foolish crusade, this is what will become of the world. Give up your wrongful cause and join me. Join _us_. Where you belong. My brothers and I - we miss you.”

Eleanor moved her head from side to side, taking in the hellscape. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of a familiar tattered blue bandana. That was Hurk’s. Was this really the future?

“Joseph, I-”

“If you don’t join us willingly, Eleanor, we will take you by force. But you will walk into the Gardens of Eden by our side. This has long been in the making.”

He brought his arms out from behind his back and raised them up to his sides. The beads of his rosary, wrapped tightly around his right hand, dangled and caught the light of the flames. As they swayed, a strange primal fear pressed down in her stomach until she almost doubled over. He lowered them and took a step towards her.

Her voice was impossibly small, “Am I going crazy?”

“ _Rook!_ ”

“ _Choose!_ ” Joseph hissed, his eyes narrowing and his face twisting into an expression she had never seen before. 

White light exploded everywhere and Rook hid her face, a scream tearing from her throat.

~ * ~

It was so bright, so painful. She screamed, falling to her knees and curling around herself to make it stop.

“ _Rook, Rook!_ \- Rook!”

Rook jolted. Hands were all around her, holding, grasping, tugging, pulling. She screamed. Terror seized in its stone cold grasp and she choked.

Her eyes adjusted and the hands turned into the long tendrils of tallgrass as they caressed and curled around her in the chilling breeze. A crackling, muffled voice sounded from somewhere. Rook blinked hard against the harsh morning sunlight, her breath heavy and scraping against her raw throat.

“I found her!” the voice was saying, “She’s by the bank, go get her before any of those fuckin’ Peggies do!”

“We’re comin’, Deputy, hang on tight!”

She knew that voice. Those voices. Rook looked around, shifting off of her back. Her walkie talkie lay underneath her, embedded in the soil. Her travelbag had acted as a cushion. With shaking fingers, she dug the walkie-talkie out of its little bed and, shaking off the excess dirt, pressed the call button.

“Hello?” She croaked, “Nick? Hurk? You guys there?”

“Dep!” Nick’s voice crackled, the distortion from Carmina’s engines loud over the airwaves. “Oh, thank God! I thought I found your corpse. Listen, sit tight, Hurk and the others are on their way.”

Rook took in her surroundings. She was by the very edge of a river - had she fallen a few more meters ahead, she probably would have drowned. Shuddering, Rook turned away from the grim reality of her near-death and focused instead on her condition. Nothing was broken, but her jeans were torn to shreds and the jacket she had borrowed from Sharky was missing, leaving her bruised and battered arms bare in the icy wind. 

But she was alive. Alive and so very confused. The things she had seen - Joseph, that hellscape - were they visions or hallucinations? Was it real or was it another ploy to mess with her mind.

Her boots crunched against the wet gravel and dirt and she oriented herself. Her weapons were missing but she had her travel bag. And had no choice but to sit and wait until help arrived. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t freeze before that.

“What happened?” She asked Nick, “I can’t remember anything.”

“That’s what we want to know too. How much _do_ you remember and I can fill in whatever we know from there.”

Rook raked through the green fog in her mind as she scanned the shoreline on the other side. A plume of smoke was rising from somewhere - probably some Peggie-related shit she was in no condition to stick her nose into.

“We freed the Marina,” she said slowly, “We were supposed to have a party, I think.”

“Yeah, you had Sharky and Grace on huntin’ duty and Hurk and me on a beer run. ‘Cept everything went to shit.”

Rook closed her eyes. It was coming back to her. Adelaide, Grace, Sharky and her, standing over a smoking husk of what she had only assumed used to be a skunk. Sharky trying to joke his way out, Grace’s voice thick with accusation. And then Hurk had returned drunk as all hell with half their beer missing and Nick as furious as Grace.

It all came back to her, and along with that, she could remember the bone-aching dread.

If she couldn’t get her team to host a party properly, how was she supposed to get them to save the County? How was she supposed to save the Seeds?

Her eyes opened and latched onto the smoke column as it rose - darker and thicker than before. Her gut told her something wasn’t right - and while her gut had been correct up until now, Rook found she didn’t want to know just _what_ was so wrong about it.

“I went to hunt us something to eat,” she continued, crossing her arms over her chest and shivering in the cold, “and then everything is really muggy. How long have I been gone for?”

“Better part of the day. Definitely over twelve hours. We started searching when you didn’t come back in three and began to panic when we couldn’t find you after five. Addie was the one who had us all to split up and find you. She took her chopper and went off towards the Whitetails, Sharky took a truck after her. Hurk grabbed a quad and headed down here by the River and Grace has been in contact with every hunter this side of the Missouri River. I was just about to do a final flyby over the Henbane and head home to refuel when I spotted you.”

“Lucky me,” she murmured to herself before pressing on the button and asking, despite her better judgement, “Hey, Nick? What’s that smoke about?”

“Oh, that?” Nick replied, the uneasy lilt to his voice clear even with the roar of Carmina’s propellers, “Oh, that’s just the Hope County Jail. On fire.”

Her hand dropped to her side. She couldn’t catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hope you guys enjoyed!  
> I wrote the conversation between Faith and Dep about three different times three different ways and landed on this as my favourite version.


	9. My World's on Fire, How About Yours?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I banged all of this out in like, two days and it really shows.  
> As always, enjoy!

All around her, fire raged.

“Rook - don’t go in there!”

Rook ran into the fray, vaulting over a fallen fence and leaping onto the back of an Angel. She grabbed hold of their blood slick hoe and pressed it tightly against their neck until she heard a sickening crack. The Angel fell and Rook ripped the weapon out of its limp grasp. Wet gargles sounded behind her and she turned. Three Angels lumbered menacingly towards her, their unsightly, silver eyes flashing in the firelight. 

Carmina’s engines roared overhead and Nick screamed over the comm links. A hail of gunfire shot down from above, peppering the Angels until nothing recognisable remained. Rook turned, hoe in her hands, and headed towards the main gate of the Hope County Jail. 

Foolishly, Rook had thought the Jail would remain unaffected. She had thought the previous link to her life - the only link - would remain pristine and preserved. Like a fly in amber. 

She launched her hoe like a javelin into the back of a Peggie. 

Rook understood that the way she had thought was foolish. She had underestimated just how life enjoyed fucking with her. Again.

The Peggie fell forward, choking on his own blood. Rook shutdown the part of her that would have cared. She was working on muscle memory alone and grabbed the sub-machine gun the Peggie had been carrying. She checked the ammo, racking at the charging handle until she heard a satisfying click.

A shout sounded and Rook turned swiftly, her finger pulling on the trigger. The Angel collapsed in a heap.

Someone screamed overhead and Rook dodged out of the way. A civilian plummeted from the outer defensive wall. He landed hard on his back, gasping for air. An Angel popped its head over the side and Rook didn’t hesitate. Her bullets flew true and the Angel toppled over, joining them below. It’s silver eyes gazed sightlessly up at the smoke that blanketed the sky.

“Dep, please - just wait for backup!” Nick was interrupted by a fresh round of gunfire from Carmina, “You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

Rook moved, a woman possessed, past the gates and into the Jail’s courtyard. She mowed down an Angel that was struggling with a civilian and distracted a Peggie long enough for someone else to choke them down from behind. 

All around her, people were screaming, the fires raged and bullets flew. The noise was deafening and if Rook stopped for even a second she knew she would become overwhelmed. So she didn’t. She worked on instinct alone, taking down intruder after intruder, dropping and picking up weapons whenever the bullets emptied out. 

And then the battle was over and she stood in the middle of the aftermath, gasping for air. Her blood thrummed in her veins; hot and electric. Her mind returned, as if from a deep slumber and she could finally, truly appreciate the loss of life all around her. Rook’s hands shook and her knees threatened to give out.

“Eleanor?”

Her gun was up and aimed before she could think. Earl Whitehorse stared back at her from behind his pistol. Slowly, they lowered their guns in turn. Earl just stood there and stared, sweat dripped down from underneath his big hat, his breath came out harsh and his mustache quivered. And he stared.

“Jesus Christ, Eleanor, it really is you. I - God, I thought you were dead!”

Rook couldn’t speak - her body caught in the middle of adrenaline-induced numbness. Earl didn’t seem to notice or care as he came towards her, wrapping her up in a bone-crushing hug. Her arms moved robotically and she found, all at once, that she was hugging him back, grasping at his shirt like it was her last lifeline. Rook was shaking again - or perhaps she had never stopped. 

Rook had thought he had died. It had been far too long since she had last seen him. And far too much had happened in the months they lost.

“Uncle Earl,” she mumbled, her voice wet and threatening to crack.

“Oh, Chickadee-”

“More Peggies incoming!” Someone yelled.

Earl pushed away from her and they turned to watch as a Peggie truck rumbled along the road, heading straight towards them.

“Close the gates!” Earl yelled at two civilians, “Don’t let those damned Peggies in at any cost!”

People scrambled around to ready themselves for the second wave. Earl faced her - the lines on his face harsh and his eyes hard. He grasped at her shoulders and gave her a slight shake as if to wake her.

“I’m sorry, Chickadee. But we’re gonna talk as soon as this is over. For now, we’re going to have to secure the Jail and I need your help. Take the wall and make sure none of those Peggies get in, alright?”

Rook nodded. Earl gave her another shake and left her, barking orders at people who rushed to fulfil them. Grabbing at her walkie-talkie, Rook brought it up to her mouth and headed towards a ladder propped against the wall.

“Nick, an ETA on the others?”

“Hurk’s only a coupla minutes away, Sharky and the others might take longer. Grace and Addie are in the Valley and might not join us.”

The climb was awkward with one hand but she made it. Rook stood at the top and surveyed as more trucks lumbered towards the Jail, speakers mounted to the back blasting some strange orchestral piece. Taking out her binoculars, Rook spotted a quad bike and a familiar bandana cruising right behind the last truck.

“So we’re on our own?”

“Looks like it. Just you, Hurkie and me. And the number of trucks don’t look great. A while long line of ‘em. Want me to blow them up?”

“Don’t; Hurk’s right behind them. I don’t want to risk it.”

“Shit, what’re the speakers for?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it either. I really don’t like it.”

Rook had spent enough time with Nick to hear the unspoken statement. But she couldn’t turn her back on the Jail, not when Earl was there.

“I don’t either, but we don’t have a choice. I found my old boss here, by the way. Sheriff Whitehorse.”

Though, Rook wasn’t sure if she was still employed by that point.

“Is that why you went runnin’? To save your boss? That’s some work ethic, Rook, I gotta say.”

“He was my friend before that.”

Nick was quiet for a moment and Rook took that as a moment to throw proximity explosives near the fringes of the wall in case any Peggies tried to climb up the sides. The first row of trucks had arrived and Rook finally understood the use of the speakers. A fresh wave of Angels seemed to materialize from the woods - shambling, braindead husks with bloody weapons and bloodier clothes. 

Nick spoke then, a distinct exhaustion in his voice that Rook was empathetic towards.

“Then we better save his ass, shouldn’t we?”

“I heard someone say “ass”,” Hurk called over the comms, “We kickin’ some or takin’ ‘em?”

“Saving ‘em, Hurkie. We’re gonna save some ass. Now let’s do this!”

Rook watched, from the top of the Hope County Jail wall, as Hurk unstrapped his RPG, took aim, and shot down two Peggie trucks and a small group of Angels with them. And with that, all Hell broke loose.

**~ * ~**

Tracey eyed Rook from a dark corner in the room. Rook stared back, exhaustion seeping deep into her bones and lulling her mind. The fight had been long and bloody and brutal and Rook was left drained.

The metal folding chair she sat on was uncomfortable and dug at the newly formed bruises on her back. But it was all that the Jail had by way of seating. 

Earl cleared his throat as he approached from behind them. He held out a warm beer towards Rook and she took it. Tracey shook her head when he offered her the other one. With a sigh, Earl sat himself on the folding chair opposite to Rook’s and took a long sip of his beer.

“Agh,” he grimaced, “Tastes like piss.”

Rook set the beer on the rickety table between them without taking a sip. Tracey snorted.

“So, how’ve you been holding up, Chickadee? I really thought I’d lost you in that helicopter crash. I heard tons of rumors about a Deputy, but I didn’t want to hope it was you.”

“What kinds of rumours?”

“The kinds that paint you as some symbol for the Cult.”

They both turned to face Tracey. Her arms were wrapped tight around her front and she glared at Rook from underneath her hoodie.

“Don’t mind Tracey,” Earl said with a tired sigh, “And for the record, I only heard the good rumours. That you’re the saviour of our little Resistance. That you’ve been causing a lot of problems for the Cult.”

“I don’t think I’m much of either.”

Tracey shifted and Earl sent her a sad look, taking another sip of his warm, disgusting beer. They sat in silence. Tracey didn’t look like she wanted to speak, Rook wasn’t sure if she could. It was Earl who finally broke the silence.

“You can ask.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The words escaped her without her thinking. And, as she sat and waited, Rook realised it was a question that had been hounding her for a while now.

Even if Earl was expecting it, the way he closed his eyes and braced himself told her he hadn’t been ready. Tracey eyed them, confused, but Rook didn’t care about anything aside from Earl.

“What good would it have done? I didn’t - I _hadn’t_ believed it when I first found out. I didn’t know how you’d take it, how you’d feel. They were your friends. I remember how much you cried after they left. And the men they became now - these men aren’t worth remembering.”

“They had a hard life, Uncle Earl. You know that as well as I do. I knew John, I kne3w Joseph and -” she sighed harshly, “ fuck it - I even knew Jacob. And these three are still those boys; somewhere, deep down. And they still remember me - John, Joseph and Jacob still remember me. I let them down once, Uncle Earl, I’m not going to again.”

“You never let them down, Chickadee, their parents did.”

“I could have called. I could have written, could have made sure they were doing alright-”

Earl brought his hand up to stop her. Rook’s protests died and she slumped back into her seat. He took his hat off and set it on his knee, Earl looked so old in that moment, sprawled on the uncomfortable steel chair, beer in one hand, the weight of the world on his shoulders. Rook also felt old. The past few years had aged her faster than she wanted. Her hand drifted up to her cheek and she traced the scar without realising it.

“Again, none of that was your fault. It wasn’t anyones. It was - it was a small part of a bigger problem that we can’t fix right now. What we need to do now is concentrate on bringing them down.”

“I’m not going to kill them.”

Earl shook his head, “I’m not telling you to. I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m asking you to help me make them see sense. If what you’re saying is right, if you think there’s some sliver of those boys still in them, you bring that back out.”

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Tracey interrupted, striding out from the shadows of her corner, and glared over at them, “You’re just going to - what? Forgive them for everything that they’ve done?”

“Tracey, stop, you don’t-”

“No! Fuck you, Earl! I thought I could trust you! _We_ thought we could trust you! But you’re just another one of those fucking Peggie lovers, aren’t you?”

Rook half-rose, exhaustion feeling her as anger took over. 

“Leave Earl out of this,” she said, her tone even though her trigger finger twitched. 

“And you’re the worst of them all!” Tracey spat, turning on her, “You were friends with them? What? Childhood fucking sweethearts?”

“Tracey, that’s enough!”

“They don’t deserve any sympathy! They deserve a fucking bullet in their fucking skulls!”

Tracey’s screams echoed loud and clear in the empty cell block. They bounced off the cinderblock walls and reverberated through the air. Rook fister her hands until her nails bit into her flesh. Tracey was shaking, Earl was morose and Rook wanted to hit something and she had no idea why.

“Let’s all take a break,” Earl said quietly, as if afraid to speak up and break the tenuous silence, “We can talk more once we’ve all had a moment to cool down.”

Rook rose, pushing back against her chair. It screeched. She turned and left the cell block. As the heavy metal doors closed behind her, she could hear Earl and Tracey arguing again. 

People tried to speak to her but she brushed past them without a glance. When she emerged from the Jail, she headed straight towards the ladder propped against the wall. Civilians were all around trying to repair the damage caused all around but none of them stopped to bother her and for that she was glad. 

Rook stood in the bailey of the Jail unsure what to do with herself. With the broken down gate, the cold night air had a clear passage and her bared, exposed arms broke out in goosebumps. She ran her hands and stared listlessly around.

“Rook!”

She turned and saw Nick and Hurk on the rooftop. Nick was waving his arm and pointing towards the side of the building.

“Join us!” Hurk yelled.

Rook did.

As she hauled herself up the final step, she found that Hurk and NIck had made their way through a six-pack of beer and were now sharing Hurk’s silver whiskey flask. She had been meaning to ask where he stored it but found she didn’t really want to know. Nick was taking a swig while Hurk rolled up a joint. She took a seat between them on the rough stone half-wall and turned to Nick.

“I’d thought you’d headed home.”

“Grace is with Kim. ‘sides, you seem like you needed someone right now - Kim’d want me to make sure you’re okay first. She’s real sweet on you.”

Nick bumped his shoulder against her’s and a tired smile made its way on her face.

“Thanks, Nick. Hey, Hurkie, pass me the blunt.”

“Ohhh, never expected you to smoke, Dep.” Hurk grinned as he passed her the joint.

“It’s been a long day and I need to take the edge off.”

The smoke entered her lungs and she instantly felt thirty pounds lighter. And when the sparkles appeared before her eyes, she realised why.

“Shit,” she gasped, “did you put Bliss in this?”

“Sure did! Makes it ten times better. Yo, you want some, Nick?”

“Nah, I’m good, Hurkie. Kim wouldn’t want me smoking and flying.”

“But drinking is fine?” Rook asked and Nick shrugged his shoulders and took a swig of whiskey. “More for us.”

Rook took another hit of the Blissed-blunt and passed it to Hurk. Just a few inhales and she was doing so much better. She leaned back as best as she could and looked up at the twilight sky. At the dark blues and light blues that acted as a canvas for the clouds that drifted on by. At the silver of the moon as it peeked up behind the Whitetail Mountains. With the Bliss in her system, the sparkles looked like stars and made the entire view even prettier. 

They sat in silence for a long time, passing the blunt back and forth and talking about things that didn’t matter. 

Hurk glanced down at her, “No offense, because I do love spending time with you, amigo, but shouldn’t you be inside doin’, I dunno, leader stuff?”

Hurk took a drag and handed her the joint. She inhaled deeply, basking in the empty-headed, euphoric feeling. Rook was young again, smoking in her dorm-room with her dorm-mate and friends, gossiping about their professors. 

“I should, shouldn’t I? But I’ve got really tough choices to make and the only one I want to make isn’t good for anyone.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I can’t say for sure that Hurkie or I’ll be any help, but we sure as shit are willin’ to listen to anything you want to say.”

Rook blinked and the stars began to vanish. She sat back up and stared at the moon hanging high up in the sky. When had it gotten so high? The big, white moon was shining down so brightly Rook could easily see the statue of Joseph glimmering in the distance. She could see the snow on the peaks of the mountains, thick as a blanket, and icy cold. Rook turned to watch a pair of bats swooping from out of the trees, circling in the air and crying out. It might have been the “oregano” or the Bliss or just the exhaustion, but Rook felt unbearably vulnerable in that moment.

She knew she could trust Nick and Hurk with her life - so why not her secrets?

“Thank you. Really, both of you. But I’m scared you’ll hate me too if you knew.”

And like a puzzle piece clicking into place, she finally understood why. Because Tracey already hated her, and she didn’t even know Rook. John, Joseph and Jacob had taken far more from her own group, and the bonds she had formed with them over the past few months meant more too. They really would hate her if they knew the truth. And Rook didn’t want to - _couldn’t_ \- be left alone once again.

“I don’t think I ever could, Dep, jus’ sayin’.”

She glanced over at Hurk and he gave her a big smile.

“Me either. I owe you my family’s life, Deputy, and that’s not a debt I’m gonna forget anytime soon.”

For a moment, Rook wished so hard that her life wasn’t as muddled as it was. If this Hope County business was destined to happen, she sorely wished she hadn’t been caught between the two sides. That her loyalty wouldn’t be tested as cruelly as it was. She wished she could just side with the Resistance, fight beside them without any guilt or hesitancy. And then she knew she was sobering up because her thoughts were taking a darker turn and she hurriedly took another hit.

“Thank you,” she said again, blowing out a steady stream of smoke, “But this is nice too. Just smoking a joint and pretending the world isn’t burning all around me.”

“I hear ya. Kim’s only a month or so away from bursting and I don’t know if I can be a dad. I don’t even know if I’m gonna survive the next few day, let alone by the time my kid comes out.”

Hurk let out a hideously loud belch and tipped the flask of whiskey upside down, only to find it was empty.

“Well, if there’s anyone who’d make a fine daddy, it’d be you, Nick.”

“Thanks, Hurkie. I never, ever want you to call me “daddy” again, but I appreciate it all the same.”

Rook burst into laughter and almost teetered over the edge, but Nick and Hurk clasped onto her arms and kept her stable before she could plummet to her death. The Bliss-joint did not share a similar fate and Hurk let out a loud moan of defeat before bringing out more oregano and bliss oil and rolling another one. Rook settled back down, staring up at the sky, and allowing her mind to go blank.

**~ * ~**

“We’ll discuss this again, Eleanor, but right now Fall’s End needs you.”

Rook sighed, scrubbing the sleep out of her eyes. It was early in the morning and she just wanted a coffee.

A week after the fight for the Jail’s freedom, a week after she learnt that Earl had purposefully kept the truth from her, a week of rest and recuperation and she was being sent back into the fray again. In fairness, it was a much needed week. Her body had reached it’s limit and she spent a majority of those seven days sleeping off her new injuries. The bullet wound in her arm was mostly healed and she could move all her limbs without some flash of pain. 

Nick had returned home after that first night while Grace was camped out in their trailer. Sharky and Hurk were with Rook at the Jail and Addie was at the Marina - spending time with Xander in ways Rook wished she hadn’t been told. It had been weeks since she last saw Boomer and Peaches, and while she missed them dearly, she also hoped they were alive and safe from danger.

“Can I have something to drink before you kick me out?” She grumbled.

Sharky and Hurk were still knocked out in the cell beside hers. The bunk bed hadn’t been yanked off its chains and they spent most of the night snoring above one another. Rook reminded herself to invest in a pair of “butt plugs for ears” as Hurk had so eloquently put it one night.

Earl rolled his eyes as he sipped at his own steaming mug of coffee, “I’m not kicking you out, I’m just reminding you to get off your ass.”

“Can’t someone else do it?”

“Unfortunately no one else is quite as good as you are at killing. Which isn’t something I ever thought I’d say about you, considering how much you cried when I took you hunting that one time.” He grinned into his coffee mug and took a hearty sip.

“I was sixteen,” Rook scoffed, averting her eyes and moving her hair out of her face, “And for the record, I had a cold that day and my eyes were just runny.”

“I’m sure that’s _exactly_ what happened.”

Earl and Rook walked side-by-side to the vending machine on the ground floor of the cell block. Rook picked out a can of cold coffee - having to smack the vending machine rather aggressively to get it to work while Earl chortled into his coffee - and cracked it open, gulping down the cold, bitter coffee down like she hadn’t had water in days. Sighing, Rook wiped her mouth clean with the back of her hand and turned to face Earl.

“Any chance I can borrow some new clothes before you send me off to my death?”

“What’s gotten you so overdramatic this early in the morning?”

Rook stopped and grimaced, realising she _was_ being a tad bit ridiculous. 

“John must be rubbing off on me.”

The words came out easily and she froze. It was a statement she would have been able to say in front of her friends because they didn’t know any of the history she shared with them. Earl did. Earl was _very_ familiar with her history with the Seeds. Before she could hash together a rushed distraction, Earl snorted out a laugh and grumbled in agreement.

“He really is a bit over the top sometimes, isn’t he? Anyway, I’m sure we’ve got some spares laying around. And I’m also sure the showers have been working perfectly fine so far too.”

“Are you suggesting I stink?” She asked, trying for insulted and failing. Rook had taken ample advantage of a shower with warm water. It was rare, out on the road, to find clean running water that didn’t freeze your bones.

“I’m _suggesting_ you take a shower. Finish your coffee and head for the lockers, I’ll get someone to bring your clothes.”

“Don’t let it be Tracey.”

Earl smiled, thin and sad and shook his head. Rook regretted saying it but she stood by it. Since the fight the night after the battle, Rook and Tracey had been avoiding each other. Which was just fine with her.

When Rook had washed and changed, she stood in front of the cracked mirror in the locker room. The leather bomber jacket fit well enough, though the T-shirt was a bit snug. The jeans were a perfect fit and worked perfectly with her dark borrowed boots. Refreshed, rested and not clothed in absolute rags, Rook almost felt human again.

“You look hot, Dep,” Sharky yawned as he entered the locker room and made a beeline for the showerstalls.

He stripped as he went, his hoodie and pants shedding before Rook could slam her eyes shut in mute horror. The water turned on and splashing sounded as she could only assume Sharky began to bathe with little care of an audience. At least there was a half-wall separating them.

“Jesus, Sharky! Learn to warn someone before you start a strip show!”

Rook wandered half-blindly towards where she knew the doors would be. 

“Then you wouldn’t wanna watch,” he said over the pouring water.

“Gross, Boshaw! Hurry up! We’re heading to Fall’s End once Hurk wakes up.”

“That won’t be for another few hours, dude. Hurkie is knocked out.”

Rook could only groan, wrenching the locker door open and escaping outside. A passing civilian nodded their head in silent greeting and Rook returned it, albeit a tad bit sheepishly. Communal bathing wasn’t something Rook thought she could ever master. Sighing to herself, Rook tugged at her jacket and headed off in search of Earl. If she had time to kill, she might as well spend it with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I've never smoked weed, I spent about a half hour grilling a friend of mine on what the effects are like. Let's say they were very confused about my sudden interest in cannabis lmao.  
> I hope you enjoyed! And have no fear, I haven't abandoned this, even if I do spend ages between uploads, life has just been really crazy lately.


	10. Drinks are on Mary-May!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeaaahh this wasn't supposed to take as long as it did but I've come to accept I'm shit at deadlines and now don't give myself any. Anyway, sorry it's been so long! Happy belated New Year and all that.  
> Uh, to make up for the lack of content, this chapter is kinda long. I actually had to cut out some parts of this because it was getting egregiously long (for me).  
> Also, I just wanted to say I love you all for all the kind comments you continuously throw my way, I just want you to know I appreciate them so very, very much and they lift me up on my bad days, so thank you.  
>  **Edit: Also also** my dear darling friend has started posting short-form poems and she wrote one for me too and I am going to shamelessly plug her works and her because I adore her and her works and you should too!  
> Her medium: https://aiman-t-syed.medium.com/  
> She's aiman.t.syed on her instagram  
> And Aiman_T_Syed on AO3  
> Give her some love because she deserves the world!
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!

Rook took a long gulp of water from her silver canteen. 

The air was crisp and cold with winter but the sun was high and warm. Bundled up in her new jacket the cool water was a welcome reprieve. A light wind picked up, whispering through the grass and rustling the leaves of the trees, tugging at the stray strands of her hair. A shiver ran down her spine and she lowered the canteen, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“How are we looking?” She asked.

Grace shifted from her sprawled position high up on the grassy knoll. The binoculars she used glinted in the afternoon sunlight. Rook prayed that no Peggies would spot them.

“The whole town looks like it’s locked down tight. No way in or out without being spotted.”

Calling Fall’s End a town was generous, but a ‘conglomerate of a few houses and a bar’ was a bit of a mouthful.

“Is there any way we could take it back - I dunno - guerilla style?”

“Not likely,” Grace replied, lowering the binoculars and shuffling down the mound awkwardly until she was safe to stand, “Like I said, it’s locked down real tight. Looks like they have a few AA guns mounted to the roofs, so no way we could try for an aerial strike without a lot of casualties on our side.

Boots crunched on the loose rocks and dry grass. Abandoning his cousin and aunt below by the idling truck, Sharky made his way up to where Rook was standing, her arms crossed and a deep furrow between her brows.

“Shit, they really don’t want us taking it back,” Rook muttered to herself, barely acknowledging Sharky.

Sharky drew close to her and threw his arm around her shoulders, giving her a friendly squeeze. Rook meanwhile was slowly descending, panicking over how to take Fall’s End back.

“Johnny-o’s probably just pissed after the last time you took something back from him. Don’t know if he’s gonna pull any stops this time.”

“Knowing the bastard, he probably already has eyes on us as we speak. Creepy little fuck,” Grace muttered something else under her breath, too low for Rook to catch.

“Look, it doesn’t matter _why_ it’s tightly secured,” Rook said, trying to steer the subject away from John, “the point is that we’ve gotta get through it. So, what do you think we should do, Grace?”

“Honestly? It’s a lost cause. Fall’s End is too tightly shut and since there’s only plain fields all around, there’s no way we can even try for a sneak attack. I say we cut our losses and try liberating someplace else.”

Rook’s eyes widened. She shrugged Sharky’s arm off her shoulders and took a step towards Grace.

“But - we can’t leave it to a lost cause! Earl said that Fall’s End is-”

“Doesn’t matter much to me what the Sheriff thinks. You asked me what _I_ think, and I think we shouldn’t take the risk. Some battles just aren’t worth fighting.”

She grit her teeth. If Grace didn’t think they could do it as they were, it didn’t look good for them. Rook had to rethink how to do things. Did she need more people? Was she going to have to wage all-out-war to reclaim the town? How many more had to die? Should she give up Fall’s End - cut her losses, like Grace said?

Rook blindly stumbled back a step, her mind whirring far faster than her body could keep up with. Earl had said Fall’s End was _essential_ to ending the Seed’s reign of terror. It was an important hub, in an ideal location and if Rook couldn’t even manage this, how was she supposed to take down the Seeds?

“But,” Grace said, her words cutting through the dark fog in Rook’s mind, “if you think this fight is worth fighting, well, I don’t think I can argue against you.”

Rook could only stare. Grace offered her a small, strained smile. And it was like the oppressive weight that had been suffocating her seconds before had lifted. 

Rook took a deep breath in. Her mind was whirring, not as fast as before, and not as scary. 

“Grace, you find some high ground you can snipe from. Hurk and Addie can keep to the skies and keep an eye out for any trucks or air support. Sharky, you’ll be with me - we’re gonna head straight in and tear shit to hell. Nick, he can provide us some backup.”

“Are you sure we’ve got enough manpower to take back the whole town, Dep?” Grace settled on a rock to meticulously fill her magazine, and a spare, for the upcoming bloodbath.

“No,” Rook replied honestly, “We’re going to be outnumbered by way too many to one, but we don’t have any other choice if we’re gonna get rid of the Peggies.”

“Rallying speech you got there, Dep,” Sharky grinned.

“Wait till you hear what I’ve got in store. Call Hurk and Addie here. Grace, can you get Nick on the comms?”

Once all of her team was there - and Nick was online - Rook took a deep breath and launched into her plan. Her team never had a problem with facing death in the face and spitting at it, and she so hoped they would survive once again. They were going to need all the luck they could get to pull it off.

“Look, we’ll probably die out there. No, we will _definitely_ die out there. And there will be absolutely no judgement if any of you want to sit this out. Some of you are parents,and some of you are about to be parents and some of you have actual things to live for and don’t want to throw your life away for some hair-brained scheme I only half-thought out right now. But for those who’ll join me, you know what? We all are gonna die someday, so why not with a bang?”

There was a resounding, ringing silence that dragged out long enough to make Rook nervous.

And then Nick’s voice crackled over the comms, “Yeah, I can get behind that.”

“Not the most rousing last words, but I’ll take it,” Grace nodded once at Rook, “I’ve got your back till the end, Deputy.”

“I’m gonna be hella pissed if I don’t get to go back to Xander, but you make it really hard to say no, sweetheart. I’m with you.”

“Yo, me too.”

“And me too, chica. Ride or die.”

Rook smiled, her heart hammering hard and painful in her chest.

“You guys, God, you’re gonna make me emotional.”

“We wanna put our hands in a circle or what?” Hurk asked.

“Dude, we totally have to.”

Sharky threw his hand out and Hurk slapped his on top. They turned and looked at Rook expectantly until she added her gloved hand on top. Then the three of them stared at Addie until she joined them. And then Grace.

“This is embarrassing,” Grace mumbled as she added her hand to the pile.

“Pretend I’m down there with ya’ll.”

“Alright,” Rook said, raising her voice, she yelled, “Let’s do this, team!”

Their hands went down.

“Go Wildcats!” Sharky whooped.

Their hands flew up.

“Cougars, man, go _Cougars_ ,” Hurk complained.

“Okay, time to concentrate, you two, it’s go time.”

Hurk and Addie descended to the truck, Rook would have to drop them off at Nick’s place. Grace let out a sigh and shouldered her rifle higher. Pocketing her magazine and her spare, she finally turned to look at them.

“Good luck, all of you. See you on the other side.”

Throwing a silent salute over her shoulder, Grace made her way to a useful vantage point.

“Shit, she’s so cool,” Sharky sighed.

“And we will be too. Come on, Sharky, let’s go light some shit up.”

“Hell yeah!”

~ * ~

In the dark of the night the grenade’s explosion was as bright as a nuclear blast. And just as messy with a shower of fragments and debris that fell like hail. The Peggie - and the innocent hostage caught in the crossfire - flew back against the wheelless bus. Rook knew they were dead on impact.

Her ears rang. Her breath came out harsh and laboured. Her leg bled sluggishly and it hurt to move but she pressed on. Sharky was behind a barrier, holding his bleeding arm, desperately trying to reload his shotgun. Another explosion sounded and Rook fell to her knees, her palms scraping against the concrete.

Hurk had destroyed a plane and the plane had crashed into the ground, killing a group of Peggies and their hostages. Rook could only stare in horror at the rising flames. She spotted an arm crushed underneath the craft. It was slowly beginning to roast because of the flames. Rook’s stomach roiled.

What had she done?

“Rook!”

She jerked up and turned to see Sharky’s face. His hat had been knocked off his face, the side of his head was bleeding. A shot fired, blasting the concrete by her hand.

“Don’t just sit there!” He yelled, “Get behind cover!”

Rook moved, dragging her lame leg after herself as she huddled behind cover. Another shot sounded, clipping the top of the concrete block shielding her. Rook glanced up over the top and saw a sniper on top of the roof. And beside him a Peggie manning the AA turret.

Her radio crackled by her hip.

“My girl took some damage but I’m gonna strafe these motherfuckers.”

Rook’s eyes drifted up to the roof again. Her hand flew to her side. Nick couldn’t die like this! _They_ couldn’t die like this!

“Nick, don’t-!”

Carmina’s engines roared overhead and a hail of gunfire rained down, drowning her out. The sniper was taken down and the Peggie manning the turret let out a barrage of fire before succumbing. Carmina flew overhead, and Rook watched in horror as a black plume of smoke followed. 

“I’m hit!” Nick cried over the comms.

Rook couldn’t breathe as she watched Carmina dive bomb into the nearby fields. A shape shot out from the top just before and a white parachute opened up. Rook gasped for air. At least Nick was alive. 

“Fuck,” He whispered over the walkie-talkie, “Shit.”

Rook grasped at the walkie talkie and brought it to her mouth, “Is everyone alive?”

“Somehow,” Addie grumbled.

“Barely,” Nick sighed.

“I’m alive,” Grace said.

“Did we win?” Hurk asked.

Rook didn’t know how to answer. Had they? It was silent, no more gunfire or screaming. Slowly, carefully so as not to aggravate her leg further, Rook glanced over the top of the barrier and saw faces poking out from the boarded up buildings. 

“I think we did,” she croaked out, staring as a blonde haired woman in a flannel overshirt carefully picked her way through the bodies and debris and made her way towards Rook. “I think we won.”

And Rook was exhausted to the bone. It had been a long fight with too many close calls. And too many innocent lives taken.

The woman drew closer and Rook made an attempt to stand but her leg gave out before she could. The woman, far stronger than she looked, grabbed hold of her and supported her with ease.

“You wanna come into my bar for a bit?” she asked, “I think we’ve got some stuff to talk about.”

Rook was far too exhausted and banged up to talk but she also knew the woman wasn’t really asking. So with a tired nod, she let the woman help half-carry, half-support her towards a building with the sign “Spread Eagle”. A black haired man with a kevlar vest was helping Sharky and as Rook and the woman limped towards the bar, more and more people poked their heads out and gathered outside.

The woman deposited Rook onto a bar stool and moved behind it. Some clinking sounded and she produced two glasses and a clear bottle of what Rook could only assume was vodka. She poured out a thimble into both glasses and slid one Rook’s way.

“Don’t mind the flavour,” the woman said, “Drink it straight.”

Rook eyed the glass. She had never had a problem with vodka before. Even the cheap kinds. Rook grabbed the glass and downed the shot. And almost threw it back up.

“Agh - Je - what _is_ that?”

The woman looked smug as she set her empty glass down, “Moonshine. Shit tastes like rubbing alcohol but you looked like you needed it. I’m Mary-May.”

“You can call me Rook.”

“You’re that Deputy running around causing all kinds of shit, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“What’s funny is, the Cult seems awfully fond of you despite that. You know what your nickname is amongst the Peggies?”

The hair at the back of her neck rose, “Fuck if I knew.”

“The ‘Saviour’.” Mary-May scoffed, “Or at least the more devote ones that don’t question a fucking thing Joseph Seed says. Jesus, I have listened to more of Joseph Seed’s ramblings these past few months than I’ve ever wanted. Thanks, by the way, for rescuing us. It got pretty dicey at one point.”

Rook hadn’t expected that. She didn’t deserve gratitude in the face of all the innocents she had killed. Mary-May seemed to have sensed her hesitency because she poured another thimble of Moonshine into their glasses and raised hers in a toast.

“To the fallen, may their sacrifice not be in vain.”

Rook choked back what she wanted to say and downed the Moonshine, relishing in the burn like it was her own private form of penance. 

A ruckus began and Rook turned awkwardly to see Sharky being helped in by the man in the kevlar vest. Sweat beaded on both their foreheads under the yellow bar lights. Sharky’s arm hung limp by his side and the sleeve was torn and bloody. And that arm had only just recovered. Rook longed for another shot of Moonshine. Mary-May delivered.

The man helped Sharky onto a seat by the table and threw himself into the one next to his. 

“That there is Pastor Jerome.” 

Sliding the drink over to Rook, Mary-May filled two more tumblers and headed towards the men. Rook watched as Mary-May set the drinks in front of them, as Sharky gave her a pained smile and downed it without a change in his expression. At least the Pastor grimaced when he drank his share. 

“Can you crack open the good stuff?” He grumbled as he set the tumbler down.

“Eager to get drunk already, old man?”

“After the time we’ve had, I’d say we’re more than due for a bit of celebration.”

Mary-May let out a bark of laughter and returned to the bar, “Fine, sure, but let our guests get here first.”

“I’ve already got someone to gather them all around. Speaking of-” 

Pastor Jerome stood up and made his way towards Rook, his heavy boots squeaking against the bar’s wooden floorboards. He stood in front of her, his kind, brown eyes dark in the low yellow light. Rook swallowed the harsh, acrid taste of ethanol down her throat. He held out a hand and a small smile graced his face.

“Hello, Deputy.”

Rook took his hand. It was warm and his palm was rough and calloused but his grip was gentle. They shook once and let go.

“Hello, Pastor. Sorry for, uh, wrecking your town.”

The Pastor’s warm eyes dimmed a moment and his smile faltered, “It was unfortunate, but their deaths were already written. We can only hope for forgiveness.”

Rook couldn’t think of any way to respond to that and neither did the Pastor. An awkward silence began to fester and boil between them when Sharky blissfully interrupted them.

“Yo, I heard we’re gonna celebrate! And while I am like always down for that, the whole place is kinda spinning and I think I’m losing a lotta blood.”

“Shit, Sharky! Why didn’t you-”

Rook flew to her feet, only for her leg to give out under her. She slammed back down against the bar, her scrapped palms stinging from the impact and her injured leg knocking into the wood panelling. A scream stopped in her throat and she stayed there, her breath lodged in her throat and her limbs trembling.

“Are you alright, Deputy?” Pastor Jerome asked, a hand on her shoulder. Rook nodded roughly, squeezing her eyes shut and shifting back onto her seat.

“Right,” Mary-May sighed, “patch you guys up first, party later.”

~ * ~

Hours later, once her group had gathered and were patched up as best as they could be, the party began. The remaining residents of Fall’s End had all flooded the Spread Eagle alongside their ‘heroes’. Glasses clinked and laughter tinkled and alcohol flowed as freely as water as Mary-May and her assistant, Casey, were busy behind the counter and behind the grill cooking and serving at top speed. The last time Rook had seen so many people this drunk and happy, it had been New Years before this Hope County bullshit had begun.

If only she was able to join their gaiety.

So many people had walked up to shake her hand and thank her that Rook almost began to think she had done something good. And then her leg would throb and she would remember the hostages whose lives she had taken and her mood would lower. 

Her group didn’t suffer the same fate. Nick, unhurt aside from a few bruises, was in the bottom of his cups, complaining loudly to Sharky and Hurk about how it would take “for fuckin’ ever to patch Carmina up”. Hurk and Sharky’s way of consoling him was by plying him with more drinks - drinks Mary-May was only too happy to supply once they’d gotten her secret stash. Addie was busy flirting with a young car mechanic from the garage nearby. And Rook and Grace sat in a corner, sipping on beers in companionable silence.

Until Grace cleared her throat, the four beers she had consumed clearly having lowered her walls enough for her to have a mundane conversation with Rook.

“I know I don’t say it much, but you’ve got really good aim with most guns. I was watching you guys, you were a machine.”

Rook’s eyes widened. An Olympic bronze-medalist thought _she_ could shoot good? Rook hurriedly downed more of her beer for liquid courage.

“Oh, uh, thanks, Grace. That means a lot, coming from you.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re doing really good. Don’t doubt yourself so much.”

Was she really that easy to read?

“I don’t doubt myself,” Rook grumbled unconvincingly.

“I can see it clear as day. You’re scared to lead. Only problem is, you’re really good at it. You’ve normally got a good head on your shoulders and your reflexes and instincts are top notch. That or you’ve got an overzealous guardian angel who doesn’t want you going Up anytime soon.”

Rook laughed awkwardly at the praise, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“I don’t flatter people.”

Rook knew that far too well and drained her bottle to avoid talking. She rose, as an excuse to escape the awkward conversation when Grace pushed forward an unopened bottle of beer and cracked open the top using the side of the table. She pushed it towards Rook and eyed her.

“I realised that you know all about us, but we don’t know anything about you.”

“What? Gonna liquor me up to get me to spill my secrets?”

“You’re really not funny, Rook.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed and settled back down on her seat heavily. Her shoulders slumped, she grabbed the beer and took a sip. If she was going to have to spill her soul, she at least wanted the excuse that she was drunk as fuck when she did it. “There isn’t much about me to know. As Hurk would say, “I’m just a simple gal with a simple life” - well, up until now, that is.”

“I seriously doubt that. Start from the beginning: where were you born, where did you live, what was your family like - that kind of stuff.”

“You vetting me, Grace?” Grace sent her an unimpressed look. “Right, not funny. Okay, uh, well, I was born in a small town in the Midwest, my mom was a school teacher, my dad was a cop. We spent two years in the Midwest before we moved to Chicago - spent almost a decade there before we moved South to a small town in Georgia. Lived a couple of years there. Then we moved back to Chicago. It was just me, my mom and my dad. I’d always wanted to be a cop - because of my dad. I just wish he could have seen me the day I got my badge. He’d have been so happy.”

“What happened?”

The weight of Grace’s stare was almost unbearable. Rook instead watched as Nick pitched forward and fell asleep on his arm. Sharky and Hurk burst out into peels of laughter loud enough to be heard above the din of the bar as they clinked their beers and drank heavily. Addie was leading the young mechanic up the staircase to the rooms Mary-May had lent them for the next few nights. 

“He passed away. Mom and him. A drunk truck driver got them. A, uh, a hit and run. It was a kind of isolated area so there weren’t too many leads but the police had tons of suspects - none of which they ever pursued, but - whatever.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Deputy. I know what it feels like.”

“I know you do. It’s - anyway, so I was freshly twenty and out for revenge. I tracked down all the suspects until I found the guy and I put a bullet into his head.” Her hand rose up and touched the scar on her cheek. Rook cleared her throat, “After that, my life kinda spiralled out of control. I backpacked across Europe and Asia for a bit, trying to find the “meaning of life” or whatever. I dabbled in a few things here and there to make money - did a bit of mercenary work once. That was kinda wild. And when I was done running away from my problems, I became determined to make my parents proud so I came back and applied to the Academy and well, the rest is history.”

“That’s some story.”

“I’m realising I’ve racked up a lot of regrets in my life. I keep telling myself I have to stop and let the past for but I just can’t somehow. I just keep finding ways to avoid it, run away from it.”

Grace was quiet for a moment and Rook used it as a moment of respite. The things she had just revealed she hadn’t told anyone. Not even Earl. They were things she had promised herself she’d take to the grave. And she wasn’t even drunk enough to forget it all come morning. Sighing, she took another sip and watched her group.

Nick was still asleep meanwhile Sharky and Hurk seemed to be having a drinking contest of sorts. They were downing beers and whiskey like it was water. Rook was almost impressed. The faster Mary-May poured, the faster they downed it and neither of them seemed to be slowing down.

“Sometimes,” Grace said, catching her attention, “it’s okay to hold onto the past. It gives you hope, strength. Try and live your life with no regrets, Deputy, by all means, but don’t beat yourself up about things outside your control.”

Rook’s grip on the neck of the beer bottle tightened. She still couldn’t face Grace. Someone dropped their glass. The crystalline smash silenced all conversation for a beat. And then a round of drunken laughter and Mary-May’s growl of revenge brought the conversations back.

“What would you have done, if you could have caught your father’s murders?”

“The same shit you did. I’d have put a bullet in that sonuvabitch’s brain.”

“So was it right, what I did?”

Grace scoffed, “How would I know?”

“I mean, like, I don’t know. Was it _right_?”

Rook finally looked at Grace. There wasn’t any pity, like Rook feared. Instead there was an open look of interest. Grace _wanted_ to know more about Rook. Somehow that was almost worse.

“If you want to save your soul, Rook, talk to Pastor Jerome. I can’t tell you if what you did was right or wrong but I _can_ understand why you did it. And I think it was justified. Sometimes you have to do the wrong thing for the right reasons.”

“The Seeds tell me the same thing,” Rook said quietly.

“The difference is knowing when to stop. Not all rights are worth the wrongs.”

A lump was forming in her throat that no amount of beer was dislodging. Her newest beer - what was this? Her fourth? Her fifth? - it wasn’t helping. Her head swam and her thoughts were beginning to jumble but she was still sober enough to feel the ever-present guilt and self-loathing. But Rook had overshared enough and needed to get out.

“I - thank you, Grace. You have no idea how badly I needed to talk to someone about this.”

“You’re welcome, Deputy. We’re friends now, and while I may not be great with words, you should know that I always have your back. All of us do.”

Rook could only smile. The lump was so big, if Rook tried to talk around it, she’d break. Instead she got to her feet and mimed heading out. Grace gave her a nod and reamined where she was, sipping at her beer and eyeing the steadily emptying bar. It was past midnight, closer to three in the morning, and most of the patrons were either asleep like Nick or stumbling drunkenly out of the bar to party in the streets. 

Rook grabbed her jacket off the back of her seat and limped out of the bar. No one noticed her escape. People were sitting on the curbside or on the steps of their homes, singing off-key and off-tune, pilfered beer bottles in hand and happiness on their faces. Rook huddled deeper into her stained bomber jacket and continued to limp down the main road.

She didn’t think as she walked. Only felt the cold winter’s breeze nip at her skin, at her cheeks and nose. Only listened as the nocturnal life around Fall’s End got into full swing. Crickets chirped, owls swooped overhead, bats screeched as they chased one another - dark specters against the brilliant, star-splattered blanket of the night sky. Rook kept walking aimlessly. Past the fields, far away enough that the sounds of Fall’s End were whispers against the gentle breeze that blew through the wheat fields on either side of her. 

And then she stopped and her leg hurt. From the cold and from use. She checked to make sure the bandage wasn’t bleeding through and she settled against a field-post. Rook glanced over her shoulder. Fall’s End was a distant glow, the red neon glow of the Spread’s Eagle sign was the brightest thing. The people were small specks from so far away. 

Without even realising it, the walkie-talkie was in her hand, it’s presence smooth and sturdy. Rook hadn’t even known she had it on her. The buttons and bobs were stiffish and the hard plastic body was unyielding. A cicada screeched somewhere in the distance. 

Rook toyed with the idea that had taken root in her mind just then. She adjusted the frequency and pushed the button.

“John. Come in, John.”

She let go and silence reigned on the other end. Rook gathered up the shreds of her courage and tried again. Her thumb pushed down on the speaker button.

“John. Come in. John?”

She let go. If he didn’t answer, then she’d just - the receiver crackled.

“Eleanor,” John grumbled, his voice thick and raspy with sleep, “What can I do for you at -” there was a pause and shuffling, “-three-thrity three in the morning?”

Rook gulped hard. Her throat was dry and her mind was blank. She hadn’t thought this far. No, that wasn’t right, she just hadn’t _thought_. She was silent for too long. There came an irritable sigh from the other end.

“What do you want, _Deputy_.”

The way he hissed it out like it was some slur had Rook recoiling and responding in reflex.

“I - uh, liberated Fall’s End.”

There was another bout of tense silence. _Shit_ that was not what she had meant to say. If Rook turned off the walkie-talkie and found the nearest lake to drown in, maybe she could stave off the guilt.

“Oh,” he said, and his tone grew mocking, “so you called to gloat. If that’s all, I was kind of in the middle of sleeping. I only get a few hours anyway, considering how _busy_ you’ve made me cleaning up your shit, so bother me some other ti-”

“Wait!”

She had blurted it out only she had no idea why. Her mind and her body weren’t in sync at all and Rook was terrified of what was happening. It wasn’t just her body, time was also slipping by. She took too long to respond again and John let out a frustrated sound before sighing.

“What do you want to say, Eleanor? I’m really tired, not that you care, so if you’re just calling me to bother me, please do it some other ti-”

“I-I want to make a confession.”

The silence this time was deafening. Even the owls and crickets and bats and wind couldn’t help her. Rook shivered in her jacket, her leg throbbed in pain and her heart jackhammered in her ribs.

“Say that again,” John whispered. 

“I want to make a confession…”

“I - are you being serious?”

A surge of _something_ shot through her and she gripped at the walkie-talkie until her knuckles turned white, “Do you want to hear my confession or not?”

“No! No, of course I do, I just-”

And John went silent and there was only shuffling on his end. It didn’t take any huge leaps in logic to figure out why. Rook cleared her throat, tried to organize her scattered thoughts so she didn’t end up saying something she’d regret.

“So, uh, how do we do this?”

“Well, I ask what you’ve done, you confess and ordinarily I mark you with your sin and then we remove it.”

Her skin prickled. It wasn’t because of the cold.

“You are _not_ touching my skin.”

John scoffed, “Yes, yes, that’s why I said “ _ordinarily_ ”. Given our, um, circumstances, we’ll have to forego marking and removing your sin and just settle for your confession.”

Rook was beyond glad she was far away enough from Fall’s End that no one could hear her speaking to John Seed like this. If those people knew, those same ones who had shaken her hand and thanked her profusely would probably be thirsting for her blood. 

“I’m starting to think you guys give me far too much leeway, far more than you do the innocent people you torture and -”

“I thought you wanted to confess. If I wanted to be lectured, Joseph is always handy.”

Rook grit her teeth and sighed quietly. The wind grew faster, rustling loudly through the tall stalks of the winter wheat.

“Fine. I, uh, I killed people. A lot of people. Not just today, I have for a while, Peggies and innocents. And it’s kinda weighing on me. A lot.”

“Murder has that affect on people.”

“Does it affect you?”

“Of course. I don’t revel in punishing people. But it is a necessary evil.”

Eleanor crossed her arm over her chest and kept the walkie-talkie close to her mouth.

“I don’t know,” she said, “the things people say - they make it seem like you enjoy it alot.”

“While ordinarily I wouldn’t mind discussing the ethics and believability of public rumours with you, right now we aren’t talking about me, we are talking about you. Continue your confession. When was the first time you killed?”

Her conversation with Grace played back on full blast. When was the first time she killed. That was easy, if she was being literal, it was when she put a bullet in a man’s head. If she was being theatrical, it was seconds before she had put the bullet in the man’s head, it was when she had killed a part of herself to achieve that. And considering it _was_ John she was speaking to, she was almost inclined towards telling him the latter. Almost.

A few years ago. I dunno how long it’s been.”

“Years?” John asked and he sounded genuinely confused. Or surprised. Or both.

“You wanted to know where I disappeared for a few years? I killed the man who murdered my parents and I fled like a coward. And it wasn’t until I could grow the balls to face what I’d done that I came back. Only to land in this hell-hole and take more lives. Who would’ve known I’d be so good at killing people?” The last part came out drier than she intended but the resounding silence was satisfying.

Until it grew far too long and awkward. There had been so many silences between them Rook was half-way freezing and the busted Mickey-mouse watch on her wrist said it was nearing four-thirty in the morning.

“My confession is over,” she said after she counted five minutes of silence had passed. “Did I scare you away or did you go back to sleep?”

“Wrath,” he crackled over the comms, “Your sin is wrath.”

A wry smile strung on her lips and Rook looked down at her scuffed boots, “Wrath. Yeah, sounds about right.”

“You know,” John said, an almost hesitant twang to his tone that was so unlike him Rook was immediately suspicious, “you could end all of this, Eleanor. Just join us. That’s all we ask for. We can end this senseless violence and so many lives on both sides could be spared. You wouldn’t have confessed just now if you weren’t tired of all the fighting, the bloodshed, the death. I know you’re exhausted, Eleanor, I can hear it in your voice.”

“I-”

“Shh,” he interjected quickly, “just listen to me for a second, Ellie. You’ve struggled for so long alone. Years, you said? I know you thought you were alone, but you’re not. I’m - no, not just me, my brother’s too - _we’re_ here for you. You lost your parents and who better to understand your pain than us? Please, just come to us, Eleanor.”

The way John begged, how he spoke, low and sweet and so painfully earnestly, Rook was horrified to find she was being swayed.

“We have missed you far too much,” he continued, his words quickening until they raced to be said, stumbling over each other in his haste, “It is no miracle that the four of us have been brought back together again. We can help each other, we can keep each other from feeling so alone again. I know we can. You helped me, Ellie, now let me help you.”

Rook felt odd for a moment. She had never had an out-of-body experience before. But what she felt that moment sounded damn sure like it. Her body was exactly as it was but somehow the shock of John’s words - or the shock that she wanted to _believe_ John’s words - had launched her brain or her conscious or her soul so fast out of her body it was lagging behind to catch up. And when her mind and body finally did catch up, the overwhelming emotions that bubbled up her chest were too much to bear.

“This was a mistake,” she whispered.

“Eleanor, wait, Eleanor-”

She shut off her walkie-talkie and, against her better judgement, chucked it over the fence into the field. Rook stood there, shaking, as her feelings and emotions churned and raged with far too much ferocity for her body to handle. She was a soda bottle shaken up and ready to explode. 

Rook grasped at her arms and physically tried to hold herself together. 

“I was drunk,” she whispered to herself, “it was a mistake. I was just drunk, it was just a mistake.”

She knew the truth though. She wasn’t drunk enough. And John Seed had far too silver a tongue for her to ever try and speak to him like this again.

Far too long later, when her bones ached from the cold and the sun was rising, pale orange and setting the morning frost ablaze, did Rook slink back into the bar with her tail between her legs. Nick, Sharky and Hurk were fast asleep on the main bar alongside a few other patrons. Someone had thrown blankets over them. Grace was nowhere to be seen and neither was Mary-May. Rook silently went to her room and shut the door as quietly as she could. 

She took a warm shower, her bones demanded it, and when she settled down on a real bed after ages, Rook could almost pretend that the events of the last twenty-four hours hadn’t happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know John has been getting the most attention of the three but like, of the three he's also the most obsessive??? ya know what I mean?  
> Anyway, don't worry, small spoiler but the next few chapters will feature our very own Mountain Man. His scenes I had prepared long before I'd written the first two parts of this series and I've been so eager to write them out lol and now I finally can.  
> Sorry for the rambling, I hope you guys enjoyed and see you (hopefully) soon!


	11. Never Going to Let You Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll.... your comments are the absolute sweetest - ugh, my heart!  
> My final exams finished like yesterday and my new, final semester starts tomorrow so I worked a bit yesterday after my exam and quite a bit just now instead of sleeping cause - ugh, you guys are good to me and I wanna be good to you, ya know? So thank you all for sticking around to this, my self-indulgent trash, slow burns are the mineral I crave and by God this is slow but still, thank you, all of you, and I hope you continue to love this as much as I do posting it.  
> That said, please enjoy!

“I think we should get out of here.”

The early morning light filtered in through the gaps in the boarded-up windows. Adelaide, Grace and Rook were sitting around one of the man tables that littered the bar, sipping at their steaming mugs of coffee. As the dust motes caught in the golden glow and the steam rose from Grace’s pitch-black coffee, Rook was transported to the lazy Saturday mornings when her parents were alive and she had never taken a life. Rook closed her eyes and could almost imagine her mother sitting across from her, her grey eyes ablaze with the sunlight as she read the morning paper, curlers in her hair and her coffee-coloured skin smooth as silk underneath the silk robe she wore.

“And go where?” Adelaide scoffed, taking a loud, slurped sip of her brandy-spiked coffee, “We’re kinda stuck here, sweetheart.”

Rook opened her eyes, the image in her mind’s eye vanishing. She cleared her throat.

“I meant we leave the Valley. Maybe go up into the Whitetails? We’ve caused a lot of trouble around the Henbane and I think it’s high time we relocate and lay low. Rest a bit.”

A whole week had passed since they’d taken Fall’s End back from the Peggies and Rook was the most relaxed she had been in a long time. Running, warm water, steady, hot meals and a lack of bullets did wonders for her recovery. Her leg still hurt when she put too much weight on it and she couldn’t help with the repair process as much as she would have liked, but it was healing nicely and – according to Pastor Jerome – she would be good as new before too long.

Grace let out a low hum, “That’s not a bad idea. We could wait until the weather warms up a bit and then get back to work. Might even have a chance to scope out St. Francis for later.”

She took a long gulp of her coffee and Rook tried not to grimace at how bitter it must have tasted. Even Adelaide looked mildly disgusted.

“What’s St. Francis,” Rook asked after a beat.

“Jacob’s base of operations. Though, from what I’ve heard it’s more like a fortress.”

“D’you think he’s tryina overcompensate for somethin’?” Adelaide leered over the rim of her cup.

Rook swallowed her coffee down the wrong pipe and hacked out a hideous, wet cough while Adelaide cackled with delight. 

“I sure hope not,” She continued, a massive grin on her face, “Jacob’s a bit too old for me, but he certainly seems like he’d be good inbed. Kinda bossy, but he’d know _exactly_ what he wants, ya know? And if you do well-“

“That’s enough,” Grace interrupted quickly, a scowl on her face, “You are disgusting, Adelaide.”

“Just cause _you_ don’t know how to have fun doesn’t mean the rest of us are in the same, miserable boat. Ain’t that right, Rook?”

Rook struggled to catch her breath. Maybe if she ignored Adelaide-

“Rook! I asked you a question sweetheart.”

Grace groaned aloud, “Can we _please_ not talk about this.”

“Hush, Gracey. So, Rook, darling,” Adelaide grinned, “which one of the brothers is more your style.”

“Can I answer none?”

Adelaide slammed her mug of coffee down so hard Rook was worried for a moment the glass would shatter. It seemed Adelaide had slipped in a bit more alcohol than Rook had previously anticipated. And it was still only seven in the morning. Rook had seen Adelaide drunk and she was a nightmare to deal with. A tipsy Adelaide seemed just as formidable an opponent.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud! _Come on_ , it’ll stay between the three of us, right?” Adelaide firmly elbowed Grace in the side when she didn’t respond.

“Watch yourself, Drubman,” Grace growled around her coffee.

“Calm down, Grace, I just want to make sure this is a place where – argh, what do them snowflake lib-tards call it? Right! I want to make sure this is a safe space.”

Grace and Rook exchanged a look. Rook silently begged her to rescue them from the conversation. Grace simply sighed and looked away and Rook knew she had been abandoned to deal with a steadily drunk Adelaide on her own. 

“Fine,” Grace the traitor muttered, “Whatever. But you’re not asking me any questions, is that clear?”

“Crystal. So. Deputy,” Adelaide purred, her arms crossed on top of the table as she leaned in closer. The light from the boarded windows made her blue eyes icy. “Fuck, marry, kill Jacob, John and Joseph – or maybe even that sister of theirs, I won’t judge.”

The look on Adelaide’s face was as predatory as Peaches’ could be when she was in the mood to play with her food. Rook wished so badly in that moment that the cougar was there with her. She’d have been able to make an excuse to leave then.

“Jesus Christ, Adelaide, are you serious?”

Adelaide didn’t even bother to glance Grace’s way, her eyes were focused firmly on Rook’s face, “Quiet, Grace. You didn’t want to play along. Rook. An answer today, please.”

Rook meanwhile was trying to alleviate the pressure of her gaze by hiding behind her coffee.

“None of them.”

“I won’t take a non-answer as an answer. Which one do you want to plough you, which one do you want to marry you and which one do you give less than a rat’s ass about?”

“Addie, this isn’t an appropriate-“

“Look, you can look at the menu all you want just so long as you don’t order. And hey, if you want all three, there ain’t no judgement on my part! I’ve had plenty of foursomes and trust me, it gets-“

“No one wants to hear about your sex life, Adelaide.”

“Sorry, sorry, you’re right. We want to hear about the Deputy’s.”

“You’re awful,” Rook muttered, defeated. Adelaide’s grin widened impossibly further. Even Grace, sensing that Rook was about to make some sort of declaration, unconsciously leaned in closer. 

“If you don’t give me an answer, sweetheart, I’m just gonna assume you wanna fuck all three.”

“I _told_ you: none of them. I don’t want anything to do with them,” The lie made her face heat up, though she was thankful Grace and Adelaide construed it as embarrassment. _If they knew the truth, they wouldn’t be sitting around a table so civilly_.

“And I told you what _I’d_ assume if you didn’t give me a proper answer. So, your non-answer still gonna stand?”

Rook didn’t respond – any response was a bad response.

Adelaide let out a crow of laughter and Rook took a furious sip of her coffee. It burnt her tongue but it wasn’t nearly as hot as her face. Even Grace leaned back, clearing her throat uncomfortably.

“Who knew our little Deputy was such a kinky shit?”

“It wasn’t fair!” Rook protested, “What was I _supposed_ to answer with?”

“Well, you coulda answered like I would: fuck John – literally and metaphorically, marry Jacob cause at least I’d know the sex would be good and constant and kill Joseph cause I ain’t here for any church-choir boy telling me I can’t get dic-”

“Can we please change the topic?” Grace begged, she wouldn’t even meet Rook’s eye and somehow that made everything ten times worse.

Adelaide looked ready to say something even worse when the bell above the front door jangled and in walked Mary-May, carrying a stack of boxes so high they towered over her head. Glad for the interruption, red-faced and indignant, Rook rushed to her feet and awkwardly limped towards Mary-May, taking half the boxes off of her. They weren’t particularly heavy, and for that Rook was grateful.

“Thanks a ton, Dep,” She grinned as soon as they were both stable, “You’re an absolute doll. Hello, ladies, Adelaide, you’re up early. It’s nowhere near the afternoon.”

Adelaide threw Mary-May a salacious wink and took a final sip of her coffee, “We were havin’ such _enlightening_ conversations, I barely even noticed the time.”

Rook shot the blonde woman a half-hearted glare, her face hands trembling as she held the boxes and wished the ground would swallow her whole. Mary-May took in their expressions. Adelaide’s grin, Grace’s hasty mask of indifference and the absolute red-face indignation on Rook’s and grunted.

“O-kay, somehow I don’t think I want to know. I see you all had your coffee; I think it’s high time for breakfast.Come on, Dep, let’s put these in the kitchen.”

Mary-May hummed a little tune as she led the way to the kitchen. Rook followed her lead and deposited her stack of boxes carefully on the metal workbench.

“You any good at cooking?”

“A little,” Rook admitted, carefully shifting her weight to her uninjured leg, “My mom taught me a bit. I can fry an egg, at least.”

“Good, you work on the eggs then, I’ll get the toast. And something to drink.”

With Mary-May’s directions, Rook bustled around the kitchen, collecting pans and gathering eggs and picking up a suspicious bottle Mary-May assured her was clarified butter – she _insisted_ it would make the eggs taste delicious. And then Rook fired up the gas stove, splashed a glug of butter into the pan and waited for it to heat up.

“So, what were the three of you talking about before I interrupted.”

Rook was glad she was turned away from Mary-May, the earlier mortification couldn’t get any worse.

“Oh, we were thinking of wating out winter.” Rook let out a dry laugh, “We caused a lot of trouble lately and we’re all pretty banged up as a result. I think it’s safe to say we all deserve some down time.”

Mary-May hummed. Rook glanced her way. Mary-May was resting her hip against the industrial sized refrigerator, a glass of milk in her hands and a milk moustache on her upper lip. She turned back to the pan and cracked eight eggs, being careful to make sure they each had sufficient space.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just – I dunno – get it over with? You said it yourself, you’ve caused them a lot of trouble. Make one final assault against the Seeds and get it over with.”

“It’s not that simple. We caused a lot of trouble, yes, but Eden’s Gate has a lot more soldiers than we do. _Trained_ soldiers. If I tried anything serious, it would be a bloodbath and not one I can see us escaping from.”

Afterall, they had been far too lucky with Fall’s End.

It was difficult to admit that the _saviour_ of Hope County couldn’t save them without help. And especially to Mary-May, especially after all the innocent lives that had been caught in the cross-fire as Rook raged her quest to rid the County of Eden’s Gate. 

“But what if _we_ got soldiers?”

She couldn’t help it, a bubble of incredulous laughter escaped her, “What, you had an army laying around this entire time and you didn’t tell me?”

The fat and eggs popped merrily as Rook and Mary-May stared at each other. Mary-May was the first to break eye-contact, clicking her tongue in annoyance and looking away at the County fishing board.

“Not an _army_ , but what if we got volunteers? Recruited people? We could get our own soldiers then. We’d have a chance to fight back properly.”

Rook hadn’t noticed her putting them in, but the toast popped out and Mary-May stacked them onto a plate before pushing down four more. Rook turned to her eggs, making sure none of them were burning.

“I mean,” she said after a moment, “even if we _do_ , we’re still going to have to wait through the winter months. It’d probably take that long to train them. But it isn’t a bad contingency plan. I could definitely use the help.”

“I just want them out of the County.”

Rook slid the perfectly fried eggs onto a large plate and turned to look at Mary-May, who was fiddling with the toaster.

“I understand that,” she said with a sigh, “But it really won’t be that easy. You guys let Eden’s Gate work unprotested for years, a few months can’t root out everything they’ve done.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Rook knew she’d made a mistake. Mary-May stiffened and Rook knew she’d messed up. She opened her mouth, ready to apologize.

“Are you trying to suggest something, _Deputy_.” The way she called her, it was with far more venom than any of the Seed brothers ever managed.

Rook shook her head quickly, “None! It was just a slip of the tongue, Mary-May, sorry.” She bit her lip, “But the fact still remains that it’s gonna take some work.”

Mary-May worked her jaw. She grabbed the plate of toast and stared Rook dead in the eye.

“Six of you managed to free Fall’s End.”

“And two of us are injured and one of us has to patch up his plane. It was a massive risk we took and only thanks to sheer dumb luck that we even won that fight. Mary-May, I understand that you’re sick of Eden’s Gate, I do, but we’re trying the best we can. I promise you.”

“And _I’m_ just saying-“

“I know our Deputy here seems like a one-woman army,” Adelaide said, creeping up behind Rook and sliding her arm around her waist, “But she’s just flesh and bone, just like the rest of us. I don’t see you totin’ a gun ‘round, despite how much your daddy used to praise your marksmanship.”

Mary-May frowned and brushed past them into the bar proper without another word. Rook wanted to apologize, to insist that she really was trying but her body could only handle so much when Adelaide stopped her with a friendly squeeze to her waist. 

“Don’t let people walk over you like that, Dep,” she murmured softly, “You do too much for these dipshits and they’re starting to take advantage.”

“Addie!” Rook admonished, craning her neck around to make sure Mary-May hadn’t heard before turning back to the blonde, “You can’t _say_ that! She’s been nothing but kind to us, she gave us beds and a roof and free food and booze. It’s perfectly alright if she expects us to do our share too.”

“You’ve done more for them than they deserve. This isn’t your County, Dep, this isn’t your home and yet you’re working your ass off, risking a bullet to the heart every damn time for these lazy, ungrateful loaches. Now Sharky told me what that old employer of yours said. Right piece of work he is too. Hiding out in that fortress of a Jail and sendin’ you off to do _his_ dirty work.”

Rook grit her teeth, forcing Addie’s arm away from her waist.

“Enough, Addie.”

Addie sent her a soft, sad look. A look so similar to the one her mother used to give her when she wanted to help her but knew Rook had to figure things out herself. A lump formed in her throat. Addie gave Rook’s cheek a motherly pat, that sad look morphing into a sad smile. 

“I’m just trying to look after you, sweetheart, because no one else here will. Especially not you. You’ve grown on me like foot fungus and frankly I want to keep you around.”

The lump dissipated as Rook made a face. Addie grinned, chuckling as she ruffled her hair like she was a child. And to Adelaide Drubman, she probably was.

“Com’on, we should head back before Mary-May starts a fight with Grace. And we both know Gracie isn’t nearly as forgiving as I am.”

**~ * ~**

Two weeks later, Rook set her borrowed duffle bag down on the grass and stretched with an exhausted huff. The hike up to the abandoned cabin Grace had marked out had been tiring enough and her leg creaked from overuse but it was a refreshing hike nonetheless and the exertion did wonders to keep the growing chill at bay.

And the cabin certainly made up for any discomfort. 

It was a comely little wooden structure with all four walls and multiple windows intact. A little chimney jutted out from one end that promised plenty of toasty nights in front of a fireplace. It was certainly a decided improvement from the broken-down shacks she had passed by on her trip up. For one, there didn’t _seem_ to be any aggressive honey-badgers who had made their residence in the house. For another, as Rook climbed up the three creaky, wooden steps and pushed open the door, the furniture inside looked useable – if a bit dusty. 

Rook grabbed her bag and entered the cabin, her pistol in her other hand after her last scare. She set her bag carefully by the door in case she needed to make a quick getaway and ventured deeper into the home. The living-room was open and had a sofa and an old box TV that she remembered from her youth. The kitchen was clean – for an abandoned cabin – and Rook was sure she could find some preserved food if she looked hard enough. The bedroom in the back and the bathroom attached to it were also clear of wildlife and dirt. Rook returned to the living-room, satisfied that she could enjoy her winter break quite nicely. 

“Not bad, Rook,” She grinned to herself, unzipping her duffle bag and grabbing the metal bat – courtesy of Sharky. She threw the windows open and dragged the sofa out of the cabin and proceeded to whack the dust out.

Sharky hadn’t given her the bat to act as a dust stick but Rook was also sure Sharky didn’t have the foggiest idea what dust was made out of and thus his opinion on the matter was irrelevant. As she beat at the sofa, her radio chirruped. 

“Yo, yo, yo, shorty. How you doin’?”

Speak of the devil. Rook paused, panting, and grabbed it.

“Hi, Sharky.”

“You reach the cabin alright? Grace said you should have reached by now.”

“Yeah, I’ve reached alright. You finally left to meet your sister?”

“I’ll head out after one more beer.”

“Sharky,” she admonished, “No drinking and driving.”

“Yes, ma’am. The others are here too, by the way. Ya’ll, say hi, it’s the Dep.”

A chorus of familiar hellos sounded. Rook couldn’t help it, a grin spreading on her face even as the dust spiralled around her. 

“Hi,” she called back, leaning her head back and following the whorls in the wooden beams of the veranda. “Everyone doing okay?”

“We’re fine, Dep,” Nick Rye answered back, “Wish you woulda wintered with us though.”

“You’ve already got a baby and Grace, Nick, I couldn’t do that to Kim. Is Hurk with his dad?”

“Not yet, he went out for a leak. I’m gonna be dropping him off,” Addie replied, adding with a grumble, “Wish he’d just drive himself, lazy dumbass.”

“Well, I’m glad to know everyone’s doing okay. I’ve got to start setting everything up before nightfall, I’ll check back in then.”

Everyone called back choruses and the radio line went silent. Her smile wavered and fell. After months of being on the road and on the run and fighting with them, suddenly being without them felt wrong. Rook shook herself, it wouldn’t do, they were all just a radio call away, she’d be fine. Hoisting the bat higher, she went back to whacking at the sofa.

Later that night, far later than she would have liked, Rook found herself tossing and turning with none of the sweet release of sleep. Her leg was aching something awful now and her throat itched from all the dusting she did. Rook groaned, forcing herself to sit up on the lumpy mattress. She had flipped it over and covered it with three different sheets before she deemed it clean enough to sleep on. 

Rook ran a hand down her face and understood she wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. And so she grabbed one of the many thin blankets she had piled on top of herself and slipped inside her worn jacket. Passing through the living room, she stooped down to grab her walkie-talkie and pistol. She had told herself to keep them close by in-case an animal or Peggie got any fresh ideas but she had been so exhausted her brain hadn’t been working.

As soon as the front door opened, the wild wind of the Whitetail Mountains whipped at her hair, dragging the tendrils across her face. The wood creaked underneath her boots, she walked down the steps and found a spot in the grass where there was a clear view of the sky above her. With a soft sigh, she laid the blanket down and wrapped it so her lower half was covered. It was cold and she would catch something if she didn’t go back in but for just a moment, she wanted to experience the night sky in peace. Without having to fight for every second of sleep before being woken for her shift or woken because a group of Peggies stumbled on them. 

It was a clear night – not a cloud in the sky and the moon and stars in a competition to see who outshone whom.

Chicago never had skies like the ones Montana did – unsullied by light or smog. But Chicago had also been a very long time ago – a whole other life ago. Rook almost couldn’t imagine her life going back to normal. Not having to sleep with her gun or feeling safe in numbers, her life following an actual routine, settling down somewhere, no over compassing feeling of being hunted that kept her moving constantly.

It would be freeing, in some ways. But wrong. Rook wondered when she had fallen so in love with her cage.

Her radio crackled and Rook leapt in her skin, fumbling with it in between the folds of the blanket.

“You’re up late, Eleanor.”

His voice – soft and raspy – shot a bold down her spine. Rook swallowed harshly and contemplated answering. Glancing around at the treeline, she pushed the button down.

“How did you-”

“-Know?” Jacob laughed, low and soft, “I thought you’d have remembered from last time: I can see everything.”

The shadows in the trees grew foreboding. The wind died down and all Rook could hear was the rush of her blood in her ears. Her fingers were frozen around the walkie-talkie and it wasn’t because of the cold.

“Where are you?”

“I want to tell you a story.”

“A story?” Rook choked out, staring at a particular shadow only to realise it was a tree sapling, “It’s not even my bedtime.”

“It’s a story about Caesar. Before he became dictator of Rome.”

Rook whipped her head the other way and scanned the other half of the forest. She suddenly didn’t want to be sitting on the grass, enjoying the night sky.

“That sounds like a ton of fun but you’re kinda creeping me out. How did you know I’m out here?”

“At the time,” Jacob said, and a shuffling sounded as if he was settling down somewhere, “the Gauls in France and Belgium were a huge threat to Rome. They’d attack the borders and once they even managed to ransack Rome. They were barbarians: cruel and crafty. Untameable.”

Rook shivered. No forest-critter made a sound. The silence was deafening. 

“For years the Romans had to deal with their threats until Caesar came along.”

“This is riveting, Jacob, but I asked a question.

“Now, Caesar had been consul in Rome but was backstabbed by the two people who helped him attain power, people he considered his friends, his business partners. He was tossed to the side and he knew the only way to get back to the top was to return to Rome victorious.So, he went behind the Senate’s back and he attacked Gaul.”

Jacob just continued in the same, low, calm tone of voice as if he _was_ telling her a story – and completely ignoring her. He was beginning to lull her, the early trepidation she felt melted away as she relaxed her grip on her pistol.

“Why do I feel like you’re not listening to me?”

A wolf howled – uncomfortably close and Rook jerked back up to attention. The hair on the back of her neck rose and goosebumps erupted across her skin.

“Stop interrupting,” he grumbled, “and just _listen_. The stories of the past can be amazing tools to help you make decisions in the future.”

“I’d appreciate it if you told me these ‘stories of the past’ some other time when I won’t get mauled by a wolf. Get to the point.”

Jacob sighed, like he was dealing with a petulant child and continued, “ _Anyway_ , the Gallic people were divided into tribes and had no real leader. It’s why Caesar was able to pick them off one by one. Until one day he couldn’t.”

Rook grit her teeth. If Jacob insisted on telling her a bedtime story before revealing himself, then she had no choice but to indulge him. The faster he finished, the quicker they could get this weird mental power-play over with.

“And why’s that?” She asked, silently resigned, “They united under someone?”

“They did,” he said, something about his tone sounding almost pleased, “Under Vercingetorix.”

Rook whistled, settling down again, her grip on her pistol as tight as ever, “That’s a two-dollar name.”

“Vercingetorix knew that the only way to get rid of Caesar was to unite the Gallic tribes together and fight on a unified front. So that’s exactly what they did. The Romans were starting to lose.”

“ _Ok-ay_ , so I assume the Romans somehow won? They went to conquer long after Caesar if I remember correctly.”

“You do. When all hope seemed lost, Caesar prevailed. In one fell swoop, Caesar decimated Vercingetorix’s reinforcements and brought the Gallic leader to his knees, begging for the lives of his men.”

He was just messing with her. There was no way he had the _entire_ Mountain bugged. Besides, if he was going to capture her, he had plenty of chances before. But, Rook realised with a sinking feeling, she also hadn’t run into a _single_ Peggie on her way up. She had chalked it up to her good fortune, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“Wait, is this a bedtime story or an analogy? Are you trying to psyche me up? When I’m your enemy? Wait, am I supposed to be Caesar, or are you?”

She could hear the smile in his voice, “You’re not my enemy, _Ellie_ , you’re just insubordinate. It seems some things don’t ever change.”

“Well, in that case, if you’re Caesar, can I be Brutus? I wouldn’t mind stabbing you a few times, if I’m honest.”

Jacob began to laugh – low and raspy. Rook’s belly did an uncomfortable flip-flop. A twig snapped.

“This was a cautionary tale, Eleanor: one small victory could lead to a massive defeat.”

“Your “cautionary tale” is appreciated but not needed. I can look after myself just fine.”

The nearby shrubbery rustled and Rook fought to untangle herself from her blanket and rise to her feet and aim her pistol. Her finger rested alongside the trigger as her eyes scanned the dark treelines. Nothing. More rustling sounded and Rook shot blindly – a warning. The bullet whistled and struck deep into a tree. 

A soft growl began. Then a twangy whine and a rush of air. Pain burst in Rook’s uninjured leg and she collapsed to her knees on top of the blanket bundle. She lowered her pistol and grasped at the arrow poking out of her thigh. It wasn’t in deep but as she blinked, flowers burst into her vision and she realised with a growing terror that she had just been struck with Bliss.

A Judge crept out of the tree line, spittle dripping out of its massive maw, the blood-soaked cross on his forehead black in the silvery light. It’s pure white fur looked ethereal in the moonlight but the hate in its eyes were very much earthly and aimed straight at her. Behind it came two of Jacob’s Chosen, bows in hand and arrows notched and ready. Rook snarled, baring her teeth even as her limps grew heavy and the darkness began to creep into her vision.

“You can tell Jake,” she slurred, “he can go straight to hell, you mother-”

A Chosen stepped forward and smacked her on the side of the head with his bow. Her vision blacked and she was out before her head hit the forest floor.

~ * ~

A scream woke Rook up – and it did so with a pounding headache. She groaned, wondering what Sharky and Hurk were up to and how much she had drunk the previous night to cause such whole-body aches. Her hands slid across the rough, cold ground and she squinted her eyes open to find a set of vertical bars right in front of her. Rook froze, her mind a hazy fog as she slowly looked around. She wasn’t in the Spread Eagle, or Nick’s hangar or the Jail – or anywhere she recognised. Slowly, painfully slowly because of much her body and head hurt – she pushed herself up and took in her surroundings.

She was in a cage. And unless her team was playing a very extravagant version of cops and robbers, something told her she shouldn’t have _been_ in a cage. What was even more worrying was that she couldn’t recall anything from the night before. 

Rook got up, ignoring the clicks as her bones popped and realigned, and stood as best as she could in the cage, leaning against one side as her injured leg took a moment to settle. Looking around outside the bars of the cage, she saw there were rows and rows of them in front of her and – with a quick glance – on either side of her too. Some were empty, some weren’t. And walking between the rows, armed to the teeth, were Peggies. And not just any Peggies – Jacob’s Chosen.

A heavy weight sank down into the pit of Rook’s stomach. She grasped at the cold iron of the bars, pressing her face as far as she could to inspect her situation more.

“She’s awake,” a Peggie spoke into a walkie-talkie, “Let Jacob know.”

“10-4,” the woman on the other end chirped back.

The Peggie casually strolled his way towards Rook, coming to a stop when he was a few feet away from her cage. He stood with his back to her, scanning the cages around them.

“Where am I?” Rook asked, her voice wavering.

The Peggie didn’t respond.

“Hey!” She called out, “Where _am_ I?”

The Peggie continued to act like he couldn’t hear her. Rook pushed away from the bars, retreating into the darker corner to think. If what she heard was correct, Jacob would be on his way. And one thing was for sure: he wouldn’t let her get away quite as easily as John did.

Maybe they had even compared notes, in which case, Rook was _definitely_ not getting a bath. And if the prone figures sprawled inside the cages gave any indication – that wouldn’t be outside the norm.

Hours passed and the sun was high in the sky before anything happened. Rook had tried a few more times to get the guard to talk, first politely and then with expletives. She asked for water, for food, for answers, and got stony silence. The only upside had been that her memories returned, slowly and with a green haze over them, but she recalled the cabin and being unable to sleep, remembered Jacob telling her that story about Caesar and Vercin-whatever, and she remembered the Chosen and Judges that had crept out of the woods like some ghostly spectres.

She had just about resigned herself to being ignored forever when she heard boots crunching against gravel and her Peggie guard moving into a quick salute. 

Jacob Seed entered her line of vision, flanked by two of his Chosen and – a gasp ripped out of Rook’s mouth when she saw Staci Pratt, alive but only just. Rook couldn’t concentrate on Jacob as he murmured some command to her guard, her eyes were fixed solely on Staci and his beaten, bruised, gaunt face. She had been so worried that Staci had died during the crash, but with the hollow look in his eyes as he stared at the ground, hands crossed in front of him in submission, she almost wondered if that would be a blessing. Where was the annoying, charismatic douche? The broken, twitching man in front of her wasn’t her partner.

“Eleanor,” Jacob said, finally turning his attention to her, “Good of you to finally wake up.”

Rook grasped at the bars behind her, trying to press herself into them further. Jacob had changed a lot – half his face was burnt – the skin badly healed. He smiled, close-mouthed and slanted, and it almost seemed friendly. But Rook wasn’t fooled.

“Jacob,” she replied.

“You were out for a whole day. I was starting to get worried.”

He waved his hand and the small group of Chosen left. Staci remained, a few feet behind him, hands in front, head tilted firmly down. He wouldn’t even _look_ at Rook.

“You can thank your Chosen for that,” Rook said around the lump in her throat as she continued to stare at Staci, “Bliss arrow to the leg can get the best of us.”

Jacob’s grin widened and he turned so he was looking at Staci.

“Right, how rude of me. Have you met my new pet? Peaches, heel.”

Staci Pratt jumped to attention, hurrying to Jacob’s side and resuming that submissive position. Rook’s stomach roiled with discomfort. She could feel Jacob’s eyes on her, but she was more focused on Staci.

“What did you do to him?” She whispered, afraid to detach herself from her corner and step closer. 

They were both within reach, Rook could have easily reached her arm through the bars. She had a feeling Jacob did that on purpose.

“I housetrained him. He had a nasty bite when he first came in, but then he realised where his place was in our little food-chain, don’t you, Peaches?”

“Yes, Jacob,” Staci replied in a small voice.

Rook wanted to throw up. Jacob’s eyes never left her, and when she glanced his way, he looked amused. 

He clapped, startling both Rook and Staci. “Go back to your pen, Peaches, the Deputy and I have things to discuss.”

“Yes, Jacob.”

Staci went without a second wasted. Rook watched him leave, her knuckles going white around the iron bars. 

“Now that that’s over with, how are you feeling, Deputy?”

Jacob crossed his arms over his chest and the dog tags and rabbit’s foot around his neck jangled. Rook’s eyes zeroed in on the rabbit’s foot and amidst the fear and uneasiness, a memory bubbled to the surface.

“Why am I here?”

“Why? Because Joseph said I had to catch you. John tried, but we all know how that worked out. Thank you for that, by the way. I had been hounding after John to train his men better and it wasn’t until you managed to escape unarmed that he finally listened. They’re absolute slobs, don’t know what kind of training regime John had set up, but it’s absolute shit.”

Rook decided not to concentrate on the last part, “What does Joseph want me for?”

Jacob shrugged, “I don’t really care. He said I have to keep you so I’m going to keep you. Sorry about the cages, by the way, I hadn’t expected you to come to _me_ \- and so quickly too - so your room isn’t ready yet.” His smile and tone didn’t seem apologetic. 

“Let me go, Jacob.”

“I don’t think I will. You’ve been causing a lot of problems for us all, _Ellie_. Besides, I have my orders and I’m a good little soldier who’ll see them through. And I’d like if you’d be a good little prisoner and sit quietly in your cell while I clean up all the shit you made.”

Jacob turned, ready to leave when Rook shoved against the cells behind her and stretched her hand through the cell bars, grasping onto Jacob’s scarred arm. He froze and for a moment Rook was worried he would break her arm. But he turned slowly in her grasp, his eyes glued to where he held him. Rook didn’t let go, even as her heart hammered in her throat.

“Jacob, you have to let me go.”

“Get your hand off of me,” He said quietly. He rose his eyes to hers and they were glacial. 

Rook held firm, “You know what your brothers are doing is crazy, you can’t believe Joseph really hears some Voice. Joseph and John both – they need _help_.”

“Get your hand off of me, Eleanor.”

“They’re _sick_. You have to see that.”

“If you don’t get your hand off of me,” he repeated, his voice deceptively even, “I’m going to throw you in a pit with my Judges – Joseph and his Voice be damned. I won’t say it again.”

Rook let go like she was burnt. Jacob let out a shuddered breath and angled his body away from her as if to hide his arm. His right hand twitched, he wanted to hold onto it but he couldn’t with her watching.

“Jacob,” Rook stressed, “You aren’t as far gone as they are. You _have_ to see how crazy this is.”

“I do. And you know what? I don’t give a fuck. If Joseph and John want me to burn this fucking world to the ground then I’ll do it.”

He turned to leave, faster this time. Frustrated, angry – and a tad bit frightened – Rook let out a growled scream, grabbing at the bar and pushing her face as far out as she could.

“You think this’ll make up for abandoning them? It won’t! You hear me, Jacob? It won’t!”

Rook threw herself back against the far wall and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to curl in on herself. Her mind raced and her stomach twisted but she knew with frightening certainty that she was at Jacob’s mercy – and it was just her luck that Jacob was the least merciful of the three brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayy, hope you enjoyed!  
> I wrote and rewrote this chapter six different times with four different endings and settled on this one today. And I liked it enough - or was just desperate enough - to keep it. I'm glad though, it ties in a lot better than any of the other endings I had planned for the next chapter.


End file.
